Daisy Jacobs Saves the World

by Gary Hindhaugh

Maybe what he learns there will help him. With any luck, she will soon be dying to become!

  Chapter 15

  DAISY’S COMING FOR YOU

  Hi! I’m still here — and that’s good to hear, isn’t it! Sorry about that whole blank page thing. Just making sure you were paying attention. Have you thought of a plan yet? Because I haven’t.

  Don’t think I haven’t been busy, ‘cos I have. I now have a TV in my room, so when I ‘see’ stuff through my eyes, that’s what I watch it on. My life, on TV. Weird or what?! Don’t get carried away though — it’s not a 56 inch OLED or anything; I mean, that would be ridiculous! A TV of that size in my brain! No, this is one of those really old-fashioned TVs with a wooden stand that’s actually bigger than the thick glass screen. The picture’s not great to be honest; there’s a lot of interference and the sound comes and goes too, like Dad said it used to be when TVs first came out in the 1970s or whenever. This is not high-tech we’re talking about, it’s more like a piece of furniture over there in the dimly-lit corner of my room. And now I’ve got a TV, even a crappy one, I can see a bit more of what’s going on.

  Regardless of what I can or can’t see, the fact that we haven’t got a plan yet is … well — frustrating is kind of an understatement, because I’m sure this brain-frying, life-ending apocalypse could be stopped. It will take a genuine once-in-a-lifetime, brain-the-size-of-a-planet plan. And a miracle, too, probably. But it would mean no more “AAAAAAGGGGHHH!-end-of-the-world”. And on the whole, that would be a good thing.

  But, don’t forget, there’s only one person who can stop it. One person on whom the entire fate of the human race depends.

  Me.

  The destiny of mankind depends on Daisy Jacobs. So, no pressure, huh?

  Do you see my problem? Can Hulk save the world? Er, maybe. Spiderman — possibly. Einstein or the world’s major super-power think-tanks? Well, who knows? Superman — no problem; an absolute, total walk in the park.

  But me? Fourteen-year-old girl — check. Pain-in-the-butt younger brother — check. Messed-up hormones, more than a bit geeky, in “like” with Connor Wheeler (my oh, so cute classmate who you may have already met) — check, check, check.

  World-saving super hero? Er, not so much.

  And it’s difficult, because while I’m in here, I’m not as sure as I was about what’s going on out there — where you are. My senses are a still bit vague. It’s like when you come round from an operation. I had my appendix out last year and when I started to wake up in the recovery room, I was all woozy. I could barely keep my eyes open even as I was trying to wake up. I was confused and things were all jumbled and mixed up. I tried to focus on the doctor and the nurse as they spoke to me, but what they said came to me in dribs and drabs — just unconnected pieces that didn’t join up or make sense.

  Just like what’s happening now makes no kind of sense. I know I am here, in this room in my head and that this tiny bit really is me. But … who are you?

  You’re not it, are you?! Because then there’d be no escape, no hope at all for me. Or for anyone. But no, you can’t be! That would be mean and cruel, ruthless and just … horrible. Okay, I know wiping out all of humanity is a kind of bad thing to do, but I don’t think Quark is mean. He’s loathsome and creepy, granted. But not cruel. How do I know that? I think I can sense it. In an eerie way I sort of “feel” Quark. Inside of me; inside my head. Sensing him like that is how I stay focused on keeping Quark out. And stay safe. Well … safe-ish.

  So, for the moment, I will accept you are still you and that you’re on my side. And that you’re not Quark. You’re the one who’ll help me figure out exactly what’s going on. And help me to stop him. You will help me, won’t you?

  But, hang on a minute … if I can’t reach the world and can’t touch it, then how can I reach you? How can I save me and so save you — and all of us?!

  All this is literally driving me out of my mind! Having to deal with the stuff that life throws at me is hard at the best of times, but when I can’t access all of my faculties, it’s nigh-on impossible. It feels as though another bit of the real me is being eaten away, trampled underfoot with every moment that passes. It’s overwhelming. Because if Quark succeeds, then, to paraphrase that famous comedy sketch, I will be no more. I will cease to be. I will be an ex-human. I’ll have gone to meet my maker.

  My life will be over.

  There — I’ve said it. It’s out in the open.

  But what exactly can I do to fight back? Brute force won’t cut it. I need to be sneaky. More … human. I mean, if this had been a regular kidnapping, I’d try to escape. I’d call for help. I’d fight. I’d yell and scream until my throat was raw. I can’t let inconsequential fears like the disdain of others at school or impending, horrible death put me off. I must be active about this.

  Fear comes from not knowing. From ignorance. I need information; I need to know more. Then this situation is just a problem. And I’m good at solving problems.

  I’m going to do this in classic teen fashion: I’m going to watch as much TV as I possibly can!

  Chapter 16

  A POINTLESS WASTE OF TIME

  Today, in a unique first in the history of Quark, time loses its rigidity and symmetry. Time both speeds up and hangs about him like the heaviest of burdens. All his senses are suddenly turned up to the max. He feels as though his system is about to blow a fuse. He can’t comprehend how humans cope with so much input — especially as at least 99% of it is useless, inane drivel!

  He’s used to being omnipotent and to the freedom of being everywhere, simultaneously. So being basically nowhere, while encased in the body of a teenage girl is disconcerting. Today, things are still more intense. He thinks something chemical has changed within Daisy, because he feels more … human. The sensory overload disturbs him, but he’s sure it’s a just step on the way to becoming. There’s a blurring of the boundary between him and the reality of what it is to be human. The filter is wearing away. This is Humanity Unplugged!

  Quark has been aware of himself — or rather, of Daisy — but suddenly it appears as though he’s aware of everything. Constant, mindless, mind-numbing stuff envelops him, swamping his five human senses. It’s a burden magnified by extra senses that he’s automatically wired in to unused parts of Daisy’s brain. His humanity is overloaded as the undeveloped brain he’s operating within struggles to adapt quickly enough to cope with added sensory enlightenment. But the pure Quark within Daisy receives the briefest, microscopic flash of home — of eternity. And from where he is, tucked away inside the body and mind of a teenage girl on a small blue-green planet in a distant backwater of the Milky Way, that glimpse is exhilarating and tantalising. He longs to be away, to be free once more. He just needs to complete the becoming that seems to be underway …

  Quark can feel Daisy’s heart racing as he seeks to gather up her errant atoms. It’s hard for him to focus and think straight, so he’s amazed that a mere girl can cope with it. The noise alone, compared to the blissful silence of space. And the total lack of order. The sheer randomness. Frankly, he thinks it’s extraordinary humans even last as far as adolescence! And this particular human female is a challenge, even for a Quark used to bringing order to universal chaos!

  He will rely on the tedium of school to restore calm. And then he’ll rearrange Daisy’s molecules!

  Still, as Quark leaves the house, he has to steel himself: he’s more aware of life than ever before. Not just the sights, sounds and smells all around him, but of the blood coursing through Daisy’s veins. He can feel the rhythmic, pulsing movement of the individual valves of her heart.

  So far, he’s drifted through three days at school, going through the motions with almost robotic efficiency while searching for a way to take over more of Daisy. It’s as though time spent in the classroom and in interactions with schoolmates has been a theatrical backdrop — just routine functions that go on in the background as he searches for a way to bri
ng about the becoming. He devotes scant attention to playing the role of Daisy, focusing instead on ways to get rid of everything that is Daisy.

  He’s barely present with Daisy’s family at home. He walks straight past Amy in the school corridor and unknowingly settles in a different seat too, so he sits away from her. The hurt this causes Daisy’s best friend goes unnoticed by Quark. And whereas Daisy’s marks in tests and for homework are always at the very top of her year, Quark’s are barely satisfactory. But then, why should he care? How could any sane person feign an interest in dead kings, simple sums and arcane rules of grammar?

  The whole educational system seems fatally flawed to Quark. Why would anyone choose to be inside, listening to a boring grown-up wittering on about glaciers, people who lived a long time ago (and so are both dead and irrelevant), or tediously basic chemistry? It’s a sunny day, Quark thinks, and even tiny Scuttleford is full of stimulation. In the buzz of emotions, he forgets he’s supposed to be disconnecting from emotions and settling Daisy on course for oblivion. He can’t help imagining what the nearby town of Braedon would be like! Or he could take a train and go to London — that would be a-mazing!

  Unsurprisingly, this is the day that new Daisy makes a real impact in school …

  “You swore at Mr Ford!” says Mrs Griffin, sternly. And, don’t forget, if Mrs Griffin starts off steely, she is seriously miffed! For her, stern is the equivalent of waving her arms around and screaming at you.

  Quark sighs. “He was rude to me.”

  “Rude! Daisy, he was not rude. He asked you to sit down.”

  “He did not ask. He told me, actually. Rather severely.”

  “Your actions fully justified his severity. You were standing up on a desk in his classroom, shouting at Robert Jones.”

  “He was rude to me too.” Quark casually examines Daisy’s nails, pondering tones of varnish.

  Mrs Griffin sighs and shakes her head as though this is the most upsetting thing she’s ever heard. “It was a Maths lesson, Daisy. And you love Maths.”

  “S’borin’.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Mrs Griffin replies in astonishment.

  “Said, s’borin’.” Quark genuinely does not understand where this is coming from or where it’s going, but he’s open to exploring the sense of teenage angst and righteous (and totally unjustified) indignation that has fizzed up from somewhere inside him. It seems to be atypical Daisy behaviour and therefore another potential stride in the right direction for him. If not for Daisy.

  There’s a moment of silence as Mrs Griffin considers this. “Daisy, what do you mean it is ‘boring’?” She is very careful to enunciate the word with perfect precision. “You are top in Maths. Top in your year. She shuffles some papers on the desk in front of her. “In fact, your grades now would top Year 11, let alone Year 10. You are an exceptional mathematician.”

  “Yeah, well, now I think s’borin’.”

  Mrs Griffin takes a deep breath as if trying to control a sense of the deepest frustration. “Daisy, I spend much of my time trying to rein in the behaviour of a small percentage of pupils in this school. Occasionally I am called on to act to help with another slightly larger group of pupils. All this is only possible because most pupils cause me no problems and another small group of pupils act like a shining beacon and have a positive impact on the behaviour and attitudes of those all around them. You, Daisy, are at the heart of that latter group. You’re the youngest in your year, but the most mature. You are my shining beacon. You are someone I thought I’d never see in my office for anything other than positive reasons.”

  “Should make sure Maths isn’t so borin’ then.” Quark sniffs and wipes Daisy’s nose on the sleeve of Daisy’s usually pristine blazer.

  “You have always done well at Maths; in fact, in all of your subjects, but Maths, English and Science in particular. Why then is Mathematics suddenly ‘boring’?”

  “Too basic, innit?”

  “Isn’t it, Daisy. You know how to speak properly; there’s no cause to sink into this ridiculously exaggerated, Estuary-speak, teenage pose, now is there? The fact remains that you stood up in class. On a desk. You shouted. You swore — at a teacher and a fellow pupil.” The head-teacher takes a deep breath, trying to contain her frustration and disappointment. She sighs and tries a different tack. “Working out who you are is part of being a teenager, Daisy. It is part of growing up. But this — this … attitude, this behaviour — it’s not you. It’s not the person you are.”

  Quark burps audibly. “Yeah, but Fordy is only a substitute for us and he just droned on and on. And we did no theoretical calculus at all! None!”

  Mrs Griffin looks confused. “Calculus?” She takes a deeper breath. “That does not change the facts: your behaviour was not in any way acceptable. If you thought there was an injustice, you are mature enough to know how to go about resolving the issue.”

  “You are a bit removed from the battlefront, Mrs G. But it may surprise you to learn that there has been no discussion at all of Isaac Newton OR Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz. Not in Maths. Nor in Science, where Mr Lucas refused to discuss the fact that humanity is an irrelevance: a mere speck in the immensity of space.”

  “Indeed?” Mrs Griffin looks so taken aback by this whole statement that she barely knows where to start. With Mrs G? Or the abrupt shift away from the subject under discussion? Or the disturbing nihilism encompassed in Daisy’s view of humanity as an irrelevance? Or the abrupt switch from exaggerated teen-speak to a crystal-glass-like tone that could — almost — be mistaken for her own? Before she can decide where to leap in, Quark continues. He’s really on a roll now.

  He nods and leans forward to press his point. “Yah, not in one single lesson. I say, do you think you could have a confab with Mr Ford? I mean, I know he is a pretty awful teacher, but, gosh: it would be lovely to ruminate upon differential — or even integral calculus; that would be simply divine! One would be so grateful.”

  Whether Quark acts deliberately or subconsciously is unclear. However, his mode of speech has switched suddenly from angsty teenager to … well, pretty la-de-dah, actually. His enunciation is suddenly clear, his elocution perfect, his use of language is strictly from the standard book of Queen’s English. He doesn’t sound stroppy anymore, or at all like Daisy; in fact, he sounds like an exaggerated, even extravagant version of Mrs Griffin herself — all “ay” for I, “laahh-v-ly” for lovely and “one” for I.

  Mrs Griffin does not take kindly to this. There’s no doubt now: she’s sure she’s being mocked. And by Daisy Jacobs of all people! The very last person she thought she’d ever have to say this to: “Enough! You will have a half hour detention this evening!”

  “But, I say Mrs G, that’s frightfully—“

  This time the Head definitely notes the Mrs G. “Detention for one hour, in fact. And I shall also talk to your parents, Ms Jacobs.” Not Daisy anymore, no more ‘Mrs nice-guy, we’re all in this together, do me a favour and just behave.’ Now she’s cold, distant and businesslike. “You need to rethink this recent run of behaviour. It does not suit you and will do no good at all for your long-term educational and career prospects. I know we were all thinking about Oxbridge for you—”

  “More school!? You must be joking! I’m coming to the conclusion that this school-lark is just a pointless waste of time.”

  Later, at home, Daisy’s parents are almost as pleased as Mrs Griffin with how Daisy’s day has gone. “You got a detention?!”

  “Yes, mother.”

  “But you never get detention! What happened?” asked her father.

  “I just set them straight on a few things. Pointed out the error of their ways.”

  Her mother is aghast. “But Daisy, I don’t understand, you love school and you worship Mrs Griffin.”

  Daisy’s dad nodded, “yes, she said you were rude about some teachers and not very polite to her either.”

  “Well, she asked for it.”
<
br />   Daisy’s parents cry out, simultaneously. “That’s not acceptable!” “What do you say, Daisy?”

  “What do I say?”

  They both lean forward and nod.

  Quark sighs with depthless exaggeration. “Why don’t you just naff off!” He stands and leaves the room, calling back over his shoulder, “and leave me alone!”

  Chapter 17

  THE STEALTH ROOM

  I listened to this with a sense of stunned dismay. Even before his outburst, Quark seemed indifferent to the mood at the dinner table. On the few occasions when he looked up and focussed my eyes on them, I could read the expressions on the faces of my family. But Quark was doing that thing with my eyes where you let them drift slightly out of focus, so that everything you see is a bit blurry. I hope that’s what he’s doing anyway, otherwise I may be shutting down even more …

  I feel increasingly helpless. With my benumbed senses, just thinking about how to escape from this is like trying to run in treacle! And I can’t afford the data capacity in the little headspace I have left to try to out-think myself!

  But it’s clear from what I can dimly see that my family know something’s wrong. I don’t remember seeing Quark talk to my family much. And they seem to have given ‘me’ space to think things over. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mum and Dad exchange glances while Quark keeps his head down as much as possible. He seems lost in contemplation too.

  Circumstances change how we view even everyday things. This dining table is one of the key spaces in my life. The cosy heart of my home. It’s where we sit, twice a day for breakfast and dinner, the four of us together, sharing our days, discussing events great and small. From Love Island, Doctor Who, Big Brother and Bake Off to the most serious issues of the day’s news. We consider and debate, we laugh and take the mickey out of each other. Luke and I learn how to make a case and construct an argument, and we learn that our voice matters.