Versailles

by Yannick Hill

  Three walls, three pictures, three Baers. Look left and you see Synthea as she is at this very moment, naked in her office, smoking a filterless cigarette at the window and staring out at her ocean. The room is in darkness, but the moon outside, and the hidden camera’s ability to make use of all available ambient light, render the image relatively clear.

  Look right and you see River. His face lit up white-blue by his computer screen. He looks tired. He has his mother’s eyes. He looks more like his mother, but as he grows older, by his late twenties, he will come to resemble his father in ways he finds hard to define. His face disappears. He has shut down his computer. The intelligent camera switches to night vision and tracks River as he crosses his room on a skateboard.

  Look straight ahead. Look straight ahead and the image quality is not so good. This is a different kind of picture. This is not Versailles, but a security feed from a parking lot outside a motel. Motorcycles. There is no one in the frame just now, but look closely and you see evidence that people were here, and not so long ago. Plastic cups, paper plates stained with the grease of cheap barbecued meat, an empty bottle of vodka. People were here and they were drinking and having fun.

  While Casey has made certain he might view these images over live stream on any one of his multiple devices, this room serves a different purpose. This is not surveillance. This is the most private of cinemas, a place where the master of the house can spend time and reflect. He considers it to be sacred ground, his chapel, his shrine to family and what that means to him.

  12

  Twinkies. She laughed herself awake, and then the swoosh, swoosh of cars on the northbound highway. The sword lying in the bed next to her made it real again. Missy smiled and turned on her back, the ceiling unfamiliar. The walls, the light coming in through the open curtains, the sword lying next to her in the bed. This was not a dream. She was really here, far from Versailles. No cameras to see this now. This time alone was precious.

  And this was her taking a hot shower in a motel, her body lit from above by the cold light in the bathroom, but it was her light, her light and the pleasure of the water on her head and arms, her arms, this time alone, this time alone was precious, no cameras to see this now, this time alone was precious but she was missing now, missing Missy now, she never came back, never came back last night, never came back on her birthday no less and now they’d come looking in their cop cars and their have you seen this girl, have you seen this girl, she ran away, far away from her family, from Versailles, but right now this was her taking a hot shower in a motel, and it was still morning, still early morning light, her light and the pleasure of the water on her body, her body, her blood, her heart, her future, the sword in the bed was who she was now, the sword in the bed was who she was and there was no turning back, her arms, her arms, this time alone was who she was now, sixteen candles, an arc of quicksilver, her light, her light, and the pleasure of the water, of swimming, of swimming upright, far from the ocean, across America to another ocean, this was like slow motion, the sword passing close by her left cheek, the sword on the bed was who she was, the cold light on her body but it was hers, this body was hers and the boy at school, the boy at school who told her she was beautiful.

  The parking lot looked empty now that the clowns were gone. She rotated her left arm and saw Cass’s number written there. It had faded in the shower but you could still make out the digits. There. The impulse to type them in her phone, add the number to her contacts, try find Cass on the network, her profile, pictures, her likes. No need. She just had to remember. Hold the number in her mind. Remember her face, her eyes. The things they talked about.

  Missy climbed back in her shiny black SUV and closed the door behind. Thunk. The sound of engineered perfection. She breathed the newness deep. Her own car, ready to convey her to the next adventure. She touched the place on her forehead where Nora had given her a kiss and then turned the key in the ignition, the powerful engine vibrating through her bones. It made her nose itch. She turned the wheel, the tires crunching stray rocks on their way round, the stillness of the blue swimming pool outside her window. Swoosh another car goes by, swoosh-swoosh. And now – a gap in the traffic, her chance to get back on the highway, the long road north.

  13

  When Leticia went to the supermarket she had a system. It didn’t have to take so long. She had a list of everything she needed, and she knew the layout of the aisles by heart. Today the cart had a bad wheel and she was having trouble keeping it from knocking into all the items on the shelves. So many items to choose from. It still made her upset inside sometimes. But her life was more simple now. She could do what she wanted. No more rich people craziness like before. Just Leticia. She had her apartment, her stupid car. It was a crummy apartment, but better than her room at Versailles. As a matter of fact, it had a bigger bathroom. Synthea Baer let her take a couple chairs and a table, she was a good woman. And a good mother to her children. Two great kids. Leticia loved them like they were her own. She left the Philippines as a young woman and found work at Versailles almost right away.

  It brought tears to her eyes to think that she might never see Missy again. After she got fired, she never got a chance to say goodbye to her Missy. It all happened so fast. Missy was such a wonderful girl, so kind, thoughtful, honest. Even as a child she had shown how she could feel for others. Empathize. Very unusual for a young child, and one with all she’d ever wanted in the world. But Missy was more interested in playing outside, exploring the gardens outside, it was true! Feeding the ducks in the lake, being in the open air, hiding behind trees, climbing, running, jumping, stealing speedboats with her brother, oh my God! Yes, but she was always so protective of her River. Leticia remembered, when they were little kids, Missy always holding her brother’s hand, leading him into trouble but taking all the blame when they got caught. Because Missy was the favorite with their father. That was the sad thing. Missy was always the favorite with Mr Casey.

  River was a good boy, but always in his room nowadays, like a lonely prince in his castle. Leticia remembered when he was just a cub, River following her everywhere, asking her questions. This was when he was maybe four years old, such a cute kid. So many questions. But when Leticia answered wrong, River set her straight! You better believe he knew all the answers already! He just wanted to hear it from an adult so it was hard sometimes because she didn’t have all the answers, of course not, but he was a good boy. Not mean, not like his father at all. Leticia knew River would make a wonderful young man some day.

  Those poor kids. Sure, they had everything they wanted, all the toys and clothes and candy, but they were never allowed outside the fence. Their whole childhood was Versailles. The mansion, the gardens, the beach. It was only these last years they were allowed to go to school. Right up until sixth grade, their whole childhood, they were at home, home-schooled, it was only because their mother insisted. She got so mad with Casey that eventually they were allowed to go. Those poor kids. Missy had done okay, made some friends. River not so much, but Missy sure. Missy would have friends over sometimes, but Leticia could tell. Some of those kids: they only came to visit because they’d heard about the mansion, the famous Baer family, read stuff online about what happened behind those closed doors and they wanted to see for themselves. When all Missy wanted to do was play, watch movies, go swimming in the ocean, and you could see her friends were disappointed, because all they wanted was to see inside Versailles, the biggest private home in America, share pictures to their networks. Leticia remembered. The kids’ faces when they found out they had to leave their smartphones at the door. Yes, Mr Casey ran a tight ship. And sometimes Versailles really felt like a ship. All the strange sounds at night. Vibrating walls. Like somewhere deep inside there was a great engine, roaring, dreadful, and dripping with black oil.

  Leticia remembered. Missy and River’s thirteenth birth-day. Handing out non-disclosure agreements to everyone along with their party crowns and slices of cake. Nobody ever
saw anything of course. One hundred rooms and only Casey had a master key. Nobody knew what really happened at Versailles, but there were always rumors. A secret dungeon, equal in size to Versailles itself but below ground, its purpose unknown. A fire-breathing dragon (and dragons don’t even exist!). Mountain ranges of discarded toys. Time machines. Reanimated celebrities living on kitchen scraps. An aquarium of great white sharks. Lions, tigers and bears. Magic mirrors. Stupid stuff. But people’s imaginations went crazy because Casey knew how to keep a secret. As CEO of the world’s pre-eminent social network, he had dedicated his life to connecting the world, but the world knew nothing of him. Leticia herself spoke to him only once or twice, she had spent most of her time at Versailles with the two children and their mother. But she did not like this man. The way he talked to his wife and the way he didn’t talk to his kids. This was a bad man, this Casey Baer. Too tall. Like someone you find out later is a robot.

  She looked in her trolley and realized she had too much stuff in there, she didn’t know how it happened. She had to tell herself: life was simple now. Her small apartment, not so much stuff. Only her teddy bears! Yes. She loved her little bears (some of them were big). And she had a lot of them, a lot of teddy bears. They kept her company, mostly at night. They kept away her nightmares. Leticia had terrible night-mares, and every time she had a nightmare, she would buy a new teddy bear from the store, and for a while it would be good, her dreams were of better times, but then they would start again and – that’s right ­– another teddy bear for her team! She had so many now. But who cares, right? They were like her welcome party when she came in the room! Hi, teddy bears! So friendly, so cuddly, so nice. When she moved to the apartment, she threw some things out. Old clothes. New start. But not her bears. No way, she could never throw them out because then, well, what would happen? Leticia didn’t want to find out. She wanted only good dreams.

  Her good dreams were of her home country, the Philip-pines. The green mountains, her parents’ farm. These dreams did not have any story, they were about the landscape of her childhood, Laguna Province in the Philippines. She had come to America to make enough money for her family who were very poor. She had heard being a maid in the United States was a difficult job, she knew all the news about Filipina maids. Suicide, abuse, no paycheck. She was scared about coming to America because they told her it was hard. But she went, and at first it seemed she was lucky in a way. She landed a job at Versailles and most of the money she made she sent home to her family. The money wasn’t great, but she could get by okay. She’d loved those kids like they were her own.

  Leticia’s nightmares were about Versailles. The corridors, the doors, the rooms. Those cameras everywhere. The rumors on the internet about what went on in Versailles were one thing, but the stories among the staff were worse. They too had signed the non-disclosure agreements, but that didn’t stop them talking among themselves. Leticia knew deep inside that the dreams would never go away, no matter how many teddy bears she brought home from the store. Because, somehow, Leticia believed the stories might be true. In her nightmares, Leticia always had a key, a master key for all the rooms in Versailles, and every nightmare was a different room, opening another door and the horror inside.

  Leticia loved the movies because they were another kind of dreaming. At the movie theater she could pretend she was a whole other person dreaming. She loved to watch the actors and actresses on screen, saying things to each other and getting into trouble! She loved all kinds of movies, even horror movies, it didn’t matter what they were about or who was in them. And when she left the theater or the credits rolled on her TV, she wanted the dream to continue.

  That’s why, every chance she got, Leticia liked to research movie stars (okay, all the celebrities) on the internet. All her spare time on the internet, searching, reading, chatting, posting. She knew God would not be happy at all with her for spending so much time on celebrities, but she couldn’t help it! Once she started, she couldn’t stop. She had one of River’s old laptops he was going to throw out anyway but it still worked just great. And she was good at her research, really good at it. Want to know where a celebrity is right now? Ask Leticia. Want to know their favorite food, where their kids go to school, allergies, rap sheets, how many cats, how many teeth, first love, last seen with? Ask Leticia. She kept folders on the computer. On each celebrity she researched. All the things she found out, she put in the folders. Web archives, pictures, video, sound files. She was very proud of her collection, but at the same time she was ashamed. She never wanted anyone to see her folders, they wouldn’t understand. There was one time. Her first boyfriend in America. Romeo. He worked in the kitchens at Versailles. He saw her folders and he got real angry. She had to sleep at the hospital that night.

  Leticia watched her items get checked. The checkout lady was handing her the smaller items. That was nice of her. She appreciated it when people were kind. She was not used to it. Her phone, her phone was vibrating in her pocket. She couldn’t answer it just now because she had to pay for her items. She handed over the money and the checkout lady wished her a nice day and she wished her a nice day also.

  It was only when Leticia got back home that she remem-bered the vibrating phone. She checked her voicemail. It was Synthea, very upset, almost crying. Something about Missy not coming home last night. On her birthday. The message was distorted, but Leticia knew, she knew right then that this was bad, Missy not coming home on her birthday, but not as bad as Mrs Synthea not picking up the phone. Missy was young but she was strong. Leticia was sure she would make contact soon. But Mrs Synthea not picking up gave her a sick feeling in her stomach. Because Leticia loved this woman.

  Synthea Baer. She had known this woman for many years. Synthea taught Leticia how to speak English when she first arrived in this country. She was patient, generous, calm, always smiling. You ever need anything, she would say, you come to me. Like a mother sometimes, but also like a sister. She’d even paid for Leticia to fly home and see her family once in a while. Synthea had always been so kind to her, and in exchange Leticia had taken care of her children like they were her own, so that their mother could continue with her work, designing the technology in everybody’s hands, in everybody’s homes: their phones, their cars, the watches on their wrists. She had so much love for this woman, so much admiration. And when all that ended, when Synthea was forced to leave behind her precious work and became this ghost that walked Versailles’ corridors, Leticia did her best to make sure the kids were okay, that they understood what happened, that their mother was only human. Underneath those smart clothes and behind all her clever words and kindness, she was a human being. And like all of God’s creatures, Leticia would say, we have our limits.

  Those pills with no name. Those evil pills in the white packaging. If only she could return to Versailles and talk to her friend one last time, remind her of the life she had before. Wash her hair, some make-up, dress her in some of the gorgeous clothes in her wardrobe and take her out in the city, somewhere high up, have a drink and talk about what was and what could be again, the lights spread out below them like those thingies in the ocean. What did they call it? Bioluminescence. Mrs Synthea had always loved the ocean. The ocean was somewhere she could be free.

  She called Mrs Synthea once more but it went straight to voicemail. She said a prayer to God for Missy, and the prayer was, Please bring Missy home because she is a good girl and we love her, such a sweet, kind girl, so please bring her home safe. And then Leticia gave a hug to her biggest teddy who was so big he really needed his own room.

  14

  The crash happened so fast it left reality behind. Opposite lane she saw the vehicle swerve then flip – a flash of surface and sunlight – roll twice and spin a quarter turn on its roof. Almost immediately Missy had to apply the brakes as cars in her lane slowed right down to take it all in. There were flames, a column of black smoke. It played like a movie in her mirror. Special effects. Then the explosion, louder than expe
cted. It shook the bright August day out of alignment.

  In the minutes after, Missy realized she didn’t feel a thing. #CarCrash. She turned off the music on her stereo and played back the crash in her mind, frame by frame. Nothing. She’d read about this on the internet. This exact thing. Lack of empathy. Psychopathy. One out of every hundred. The article even used the example of a car accident. How the psychopath didn’t process these kinds of events like the rest of us. First the Twinkies, now this. Could she really be a psycho? Then why’d she feel so sad when Leticia lost her job at Versailles? All she’d thought about that day was Leticia, all on her own somewhere with the teddy bears. Missy felt a tear roll down her cheek. Yay, not a psychopath! Music!

  Without warning the man’s voice came through her smartphone, telling her to take the next exit. It occurred to Missy that maybe these directions weren’t pre-recorded at all, that this was someone speaking to her in real time through some kind of voice changer. She exited the highway and the instructions became more frequent, turn by turn. She drove slowly along a wide road flanked by trailer homes. Some were big, some small, she saw clothes out on the line, American flags hanging heavy, but no people, no movement. This was a trailer park.

  The voice again: You have reached waypoint alpha, Missy. Look for Silas.

  Say what? Missy brought the SUV to a standstill and turned the key in the ignition, bringing her music to an end. She looked at her watch. Midday in the middle of nowhere. She checked her make-up in the mirror and saw that she looked like her mother, like seeing her through water, diving from the highest of three platforms and seeing her through blue water, they could talk about anything but now she was swimming, away from her mother towards the fall, no one to see this now, she always told her everything before, and the boy at school, sword on the back seat of her brand new car, the blackness of the PX8 and the boy at school, the boy at school who told her she was beautiful.