The Real

by Masha du Toit

  A few minutes later he passed the scope case and tripods up to her through the hatch, then joined her on the roof. Now that he had the case in his hands again, he found that he shared Isabeau’s excitement. He clipped it open reverently, admiring the gleaming rows of lens attachments, each in their own little velvet nest. The batteries still had a bit of charge, he was happy to see.

  The heat scope belonged to their mother’s boyfriend Jayden. He’d done nightly inspections of the Muara from the roof deck, often with the children’s help. Even after his mother and Jayden had left, Ndlela had kept up the routine, setting up the tripod, fitting the scope, and inspecting the landscape for any signs of life.

  Gotta know what’s popping, Jayden used to say. If anyone’s joined the neighbourhood. See them before they see you is what I’m saying.

  At first it had just been routine. Then, as days and weeks passed with no sign of either Jayden or their mother, it had become a reminder of their absence and Ndlela had found himself skipping days. Now it had been months since he’d last opened the case.

  He extended the tripod’s legs, making sure each one clicked firmly into place and wouldn’t wobble. Then he attached the scope and sat back, orienting himself.

  “That way,” said Isabeau, pointing.

  Ndlela sighted through the scope, keeping it on night vision. He had to find the building...there. The cluster of shapes on the darkness of the rock.

  “See anything?” Isabeau’s hot breath fanned his cheek.

  Ndlela took the heat vision attachment out of its velvet nest. This was the moment he loved. The scope was old but good. Not stranger-tech as he’d first thought, but real-world. Prussian made and probably military, or that was what Jayden had hinted at.

  He clipped a lens-attachment into place and looked through the scope again. Now the scene was transformed, the pink glow of the sand still warm from the heat of the sun, the utter black of the cold sea. He upped the magnification, hunting for the tell-tale peach glow of body heat. Even at this distance a live human body should be clearly visible.

  “They’ll probably be indoors at this time.” He turned the scope slowly, sweeping it first to the right, then to the left. “So—”

  Both of them gasped simultaneously and Ndlela sat back, blinking.

  “Oh! Lookit!” yelped Isabeau. “Look, lookit look! I told you they were there!”

  Ndlela could see it even without the scope, a glow flickering in the dark distance, firefly spots of multi-coloured light. They flickered and went out.

  “The lights!” said Isabeau. “They switched on the circus lights! You saw them, you did!”

  “I did,” agreed Ndlela. For a brief moment the familiar swathes and curves of the circus lights, incongruous lollipops, flowers, stars and spirals, had sparkled up at them through the night. Now, all was dark again.

  The Message

  Elke woke to a sense of pressure, a heaviness that made her wonder if a storm was brewing. Then she remembered where she was. Not out in the Real world, but in the Eye, a metal bubble floating in the void between the worlds. There could be no thunderstorm. There was no weather in the Eye.

  It’s because of Dolly. She sat up, pushing away her blankets. I’m worried about her. But Dolly’s an old hand at these political games. She can look after herself.

  Elke had never been interested in the intricate dance of influence and power games that made up a large part of life in the Eye. The commission that was investigating Dolly was only the latest complication. Ostensibly it was a partnership between the two biggest Realworld commercial interests in the Eye, Nexico and Torka, together with some of the up-and-coming Strangeworld businesses. Their stated goal was controlling the flow of illegal substances from the Strange to the Real world and vice versa. They’d been shaking up various parts of the Eye, conducting investigations and audits, but as far as Elke could see, they were more interested in establishing their own interests than fighting crime.

  The mere fact that those old enemies, Nexico and Torka, were cooperating with one another was suspicious enough. But what made it worse was the secret way in which they conducted their business. No outsiders were allowed to attend the commission’s hearings and Elke had no idea what the legal process was.

  Elke pulled her blankets up to her chin and pushed her face into her pillow.

  Could Dolly end up in serious trouble of some kind? She must have made many enemies over the years. This could all be some elaborate way to get rid of her, and replace her with this Argent guy.

  Something cold and moist nudged her ribs, making her grunt in surprise. “Hey. Okay. I’m getting up. Give me a chance.” She pushed the offending dog-nose away. Meisje sat back, watching as she yawned and stretched.

  “Let me get dressed.” Elke swung her legs out of bed and pulled open a drawer. One thing about wearing a uniform—it made getting dressed in the morning a good deal easier. She rubbed a touch of oil into the two short, sharp horns that grew out of her skull, combed and plaited her hair, and sat on the bed to pull her boots on.

  I’ve come a long way in a year. She tapped the heel of her boot. All empty now. And good riddance. Getting rid of the suicide pills she used to carry in the heel of her boot had been one of the first things she’d done on becoming a constable.

  I’ve managed so far. Just got to keep on trucking.

  ¤¤¤

  A few minutes later, Elke and Meisje were heading downstairs to the lowest level of the Eye. The composting and recycling heaps on the Works level offered convenient places where Meisje could relieve herself. Also, in Elke’s experience, if anything was going wrong in the Eye it either started down in Works or somebody in Works knew about it. It was a good place to begin their patrol.

  Elke and Meisje made their way past the pulping machines, reeking of bleach, and the glowing green coils of the photobioreactors. A dexter song was playing over the speakers and Elke kept an eye on the time readout of her internal display, an ever-changing scroll of silver white numerals in her peripheral vision. It would not do to be late for the first meeting with her new boss, even if he was only temporary.

  The oppression she’d felt on waking had lifted. Works was one of her favourite places. It felt alive. It stank too, of compost, spilled chemicals and the fresh tang of the algae tanks. The pipes hissed, burped and rattled with the multitude of mechanical and biological processes that kept the Eye alive.

  Never thought I’d get so used to this place. Elke nodded a greeting to Sparks, the mechanic who oversaw this level, but he was engrossed in untangling a skein of wires dangling from the ceiling.

  She’d nearly completed her circuit of Works when the dexter music stopped abruptly and somebody in a nearby workshop swore. The numbers on Elke’s internal display flickered and went out, but the ambient light, provided by the non-electrical colls, did not waver.

  Better start heading for the office. Get there early and make a good impression. Elke headed for the stairs. Halfway up the flight between the Long and Short Storage levels, she heard a call.

  “Dog-lady. Hey! Constable!”

  It was a messenger, a long-haired boy she’d often seen doing skateboard tricks as he zoomed around the Eye. Now he rode clattering down the stairs, glanced to see if she was watching, flipped up onto the handrail and slid down it.

  “There!” he said as he clunked down on the landing where she was waiting. “Got a message for you.” He pulled a tiny package from his bag. “There you go.”

  Elke gave him a handful of coins, took the package and turned it over, puzzled. Somebody had written her name on it, but that was all. Nothing showed who it might be from.

  “Hey, wait up.” But the messenger was already careening down the stairs and didn’t hear her. Meisje, who stood one landing above her, turned and gave an impatient “whuff”.

  “Okay, right, I’m coming.” Elke pushed the package into a pocket and started up the stairs again.

  ¤¤¤

  Herr-eid Argent was alread
y sitting at the desk when Elke knocked and entered Dolly’s office.

  Dolly’s desk. Elke was surprised at the rush of dislike she felt on seeing the man sitting there so comfortably.

  “Come in, Veraart. Please have a seat.” He flipped back and forth through a ledger and only glanced up briefly as he spoke.

  A figure stood against the wall behind the desk. A young man, although it was difficult to tell. He had a fine-boned, delicate face and wore a loose tunic that hid his body. A solid black disk was tattooed on his forehead. His face was expressionless and his eyes had the characteristic blank, unfocused look of his kind.

  A shade! Elke sat in a chair and Meisje curled up at her feet. Argent has his own shade? He must be higher rank than I guessed.

  “Hey,” Elke said to Constable Wozniak, who nodded in reply. He sat very upright, one knee jiggling.

  A long and uncomfortable pause followed. The only sounds were the rustle as Argent turned a page and the chirping squeak of Wozniak’s chair responding to his twitching leg. At last Argent closed the ledger and gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  “So!” he said. “The team is here. Good! Very good. I was just familiarising myself with some of the details.” He saw the direction of Elke’s gaze. “Yes. My shade. He will ensure that all our interactions are properly witnessed and recorded.”

  Argent stood and picked up the ledger. “We will be keeping things in better order around here from now on.”

  He shuffled out from behind the desk, and Elke made to move out of his way, but Argent pushed impatiently past her, stepping heavily as he nearly lost his balance. Meisje yelped and Elke’s chair went over with a clatter as the gardag scrambled to her feet, ears and tail down in distress.

  Bugger. He stepped on her tail. Elke reached for Meisje’s collar.

  “Get that dog under control!” roared Argent, his back against the shelf, the ledger held protectively in front of him. He glared down at Meisje, who stood frozen behind the fallen chair.

  “It’s okay, girl.” Elke moved between Argent and the gardag, eyeing the ledger warily. If he throws that thing—

  “Down!” Argent’s voice boomed in the tiny office. “Get down!”

  Elke touched Meisje’s head. “Better get out, girl. Wait for me outside.” To her relief, the door was still open. The gardag turned and slunk outside and out of sight.

  “What was that animal doing in my office?” Argent moved back behind the desk. His face was stiff with anger but his voice was back under his control.

  Elke picked up the chair and sat, not trusting herself to speak. Behind the desk, against the wall, the shade stood, unmoving, as though nothing at all had happened.

  “Veraart! I asked you a question!”

  “Meisje is my partner, Herr-eid.” Elke was pleased at how calmly the words came. “You’ll find her listed with the officers that serve the Eye. She always attends meetings.”

  Argent, who had taken his seat behind the desk again, stiffened. He thinks I’m making fun of him.

  “She’s a gardag,” Elke pointed out levelly. “She understands language as well as any human. She can follow what we say. Dolly always includes her in our meetings. That way Meisje knows what’s going on, just like any other officer.”

  “I am aware the creature is a gardag.” Argent blinked in agitation. “I was, however, under the impression that she was trained and under control.” The flush in his cheeks had subsided and his face was so pale the delicate tattoos stood out in sharp contrast.

  “I’m sorry about what just happened,” said Elke. “You must have stepped on—”

  But Argent held up his hand. “No excuses.” He kept his hand up as if he thought she was about to jump at him. “I don’t want to waste time on argument. The point is, the creature clearly does not know how to conduct itself in a civilised manner. We cannot make any special concessions. This is a professional unit. Is that understood?”

  Elke bit back the reply that rose to her lips, but it didn’t seem that Argent expected a response. He didn’t pause to give her a chance to speak. “The dog will not enter this office unless at my explicit instruction. Now. To work.”

  He pulled out a file and opened it. “Let’s go over the agenda for the day.”

  ¤¤¤

  “—and look down here.” Ndlela crouched and tipped the plant container, exposing roots that were growing out of the drainage holes. “All of them are like that. And look here—” He pulled down a tendril of a tomato plant. “See that?”

  Noor bent closer, frowning. “That white stuff? Those are aphids.” She poked at the plant with her finger. “Mom used to put soapy water on those.”

  “But the roots?” Ndlela got up, brushing dirt from his knees. “They look like they’re getting too big for these pots.”

  He watched as his sister put her finger into the soil of one of the plant pots.

  “You’ve been watering them?”

  “You know I have.” He tried to keep the irritation from his voice. “We need to move them to bigger pots. Or something. They don’t look healthy to me.”

  What do you think Mom would do? The words were on the tip of his tongue but he knew better than to say them. It seemed that these days most of his time was spent not saying things, in case Noor blew up at him.

  When will Mom be back? That was the question he’d not been asking since their mother had left. And now a new question had appeared, one he was afraid even to consider. Do you think she will ever come back again?

  Noor had that worried little frown that seemed almost permanent these days. She drew in her breath in as if to speak, then she let it out again. Ndlela watched her warily, waiting for the outburst. They both knew how serious this was. The food they got from these plants was an essential part of their diet, one they could not easily afford to replace.

  Noor stared at the plants for a moment, then turned abruptly and walked to her bike, jerking it free from its lock with unnecessary violence. “I don’t know, Ndlela.” She didn’t look at him. “I don’t have all the answers, okay? I just don’t.” She heaved the bike up onto her shoulder and started down the stairs, her twisted foot making her sway unsteadily at every second step. At the bottom of the flight she put down the bike and looked up at him, clearly trying to master her temper. When she spoke again, her voice was calmer. “Why don’t you ask Crosshatch? He’ll know.”

  “Okay. I’ll do that.” Ndlela lifted a hand in a wave. And be careful during that dive. That was another thing she didn’t like him to talk about.

  “It’s my job,” was what she’d say. “It’s what I do. And we need the money.”

  He stood at the parapet wall and watched as Noor made her way down between the hotel and the wall that divided them from the river. Then she was out of sight until she appeared again, crossing the river via the stepping stones, the bicycle held in her arms. Once she was across, she mounted the bike and was off, cycling towards Kaapstadt.

  It was still early enough that the sunlight was pleasantly warm. It was good to stand, looking out over the Muara as it woke to the new day.

  Still, the knot of worry in his stomach kept Ndlela from truly relaxing. The thing with the plants was serious. Not knowing what was wrong with them made him feel helpless, reminded him how vulnerable they were, the three of them. Could they really survive, out here, all by themselves, three children without any grownups to look after them?

  The little bit of money he and Isabeau made from selling their beach scrap wasn’t nothing, but it wasn’t enough. And they’d long ago burnt through the cash their mother had left behind.

  What if Mom never comes back. Something must have happened to her. What if she and Jayden never even reached the Babylon Eye?

  These were not new thoughts, but they usually only came late at night, when he couldn’t get to sleep.

  Mom would never leave us alone for so long. Never. She was supposed to be gone for three days. Four days, tops. It’s been— What. More than a year now
. What can possibly keep her away for so long? It’s not like the Ishtar Gate is that far away, even.

  Isabeau came out of the door to the balcony, dressed in a shirt and panties, her face still scrunched with sleep.

  “Noor gone already?”

  “Yes.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yea, sure. No problem.”

  She came to stand next to him and for a moment they both looked out at the sparkling, early morning sea. He touched her shoulder. “Wanna go visit the Dutchies today? We can do our pickup sweep on the way. Tide was nice and high last night. Should be plenty of stuff for us to gather.”

  “Sure, okay. Just let me get dressed.” Isabeau paused in the door to look back. “And then can we go down to the Circus?”

  Ndlela looked across at the buildings down by the sea. They seemed as abandoned as ever now. No vehicles were visible and the tide had wiped away the tracks they’d seen yesterday.

  Isabeau sensed his hesitation. “Mom used to let us go.”

  Ndlela hesitated. This was true. Their mother had walked down with them to see the circus displays. He was fairly sure she’d also known about the secret visits he and his sisters made to see the more exciting performances that happened after the sun went down.

  “I’m not sure that’s them, Issy. I don’t see any of their trucks down there. All the other times they came, you’d be hearing the music by now—”

  But she was not listening. “Come on, you said, you said. You saw the lights last night.”

  “I know. But anyone could switch on—”

  “But I want to—!”

  “Issy!”

  She drew in her breath for another shout, then swallowed it back, her eyes bright with frustration. “Why not!”

  “I’m not saying we can’t go.” Ndlela fought down his own irritation. “It’s just that we really don’t know who those people are. I don’t want them to see us. You know. Jayden’s rules.”

  “That’s true.” Isabeau’s frown faded. “I didn’t think of that.”

  She went inside. Drawers scraped and slammed as she got dressed. Ndlela went to stand in the door. This sudden change of mood made him suspicious.