by Yannick Hill
‘Are you sure?’ said Leticia quietly, ‘You have not been swimming in a long time.’
‘I want to swim in the ocean,’ Synthea said, ‘Would you mind fetching me a fresh towel from the wardrobe, Leticia? I would like a fresh towel to dry myself afterwards.’
They walked awhile along the shoreline, it was like Mrs Synthea was looking for the right place where she should go in the ocean. The water so calm today, like a mirror for the sky. No boats, no birds. It was very quiet, like something was going to happen, not bad, not good. Something.
‘But where will you go, Leticia?’ Synthea said from nowhere.
‘I’m here, Mrs Synthea, what’s wrong?’
‘Yes but where will you go . . . where will you go?’
‘I have my apartment, my little place to live for now, it’s nice, really. You can come visit if you like. I have my teddy bears all set up for when I come home. You remember my teddy bears, Mrs Synthea? You always said I was like a little kid. But they keep me safe and I like it in a way. It’s my place and that’s good for now.’
‘You have an apartment? Where is your apartment?’ Synthea said.
‘In the city. Don’t you remember, Mrs Synthea? You gave me the chairs and the table. That was very nice of you. The fancy chairs with the table. That was very nice. You were always good to me, Synthea. We looked after each other.’
‘I remember, yes. Your new apartment. Yes, I do remember. The ocean today is so still,’ Synthea said. ‘It’s like a mirror.’
‘It’s what I was thinking too,’ Leticia said. ‘Like a mirror for the sky. Very calm . . .’
‘I would like to swim in it,’ Synthea said.
‘You should,’ Leticia said. ‘The ocean looks beautiful. You should enjoy it. I know how you like to go in the water, Mrs Synthea.’
‘Yes, I do like to swim, very much.’ Synthea came to a standstill and looked out over the water, out to the horizon where she thought she could see the shape of a boat, a cargo ship all the way out there. She shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight with the curve of her hand. She began undressing. Her movements were precise, very much like she was being careful to avoid some kind of pain, a terrible pain that might manifest itself at any moment. She unbuttoned her blouse and gave it to Leticia. She did the same with her skirt and when she slipped out of her shoes she was naked. Synthea looked down at her own body. A cluster of moles on her left shoulder. Funny, she didn’t remember those.
Leticia thought she looked very beautiful as she walked into the ocean. Not just her body. Her spirit. She felt so sorry somehow, such a lovely lady, not the Synthea she remembers, not like when they first met. This was a broken lady, walking slowly and gracefully into the ocean, her feet disappearing, her naked body more naked than it should be, her fingertips touching the surface as the water grew deeper around her, a swell so subtle as to go unnoticed.
53
Missy blinked in the bright sunlight. She opened and closed her hands to get the blood flowing again. They had arrived, whatever that meant. They were on the edge of some kind of town, low mountains in the background, standing outside the entrance to what looked like a public swimming baths. The sky was a deep, azure blue. There were people here, walking along the sidewalk and driving slowly in their cars, but it was quiet as a daydream. This had to be a swimming pool, Missy even thought she could smell the chlorine, but then where were all the people? It was a beautiful day and this far from the ocean Missy couldn’t imagine anything she’d rather do. The pleasure of swimming, her body moving through the cool water.
‘I’m not going in there, Dad. I’m scared.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, boy. If you don’t pull yourself together right this minute, there’s not going to be another rabbit. And you can forget about fixing up that motorcycle in the fall.’
The boy with no name fell silent.
‘That’s better. Now.’ Silas tossed Missy her sword like it was a rifle, and she a fellow soldier. ‘You’re going to need this. Don’t get any ideas.’ Next he pulled a long, heavy chain from his pocket revealing a single, black key. At least Missy thought it was a key. This thing was pure S&M, like something designed to elicit answers. Silas inserted the black key into the door and pushed it open with one hand. ‘After you, Missy.’
It was a swimming pool, but there was no swimming pool. A cavernous room defined by a single pane of curving glass that framed a view of the sky so total it felt like you were still outside. Three diving platforms. The walls bedecked with white tiles. But where the swimming pool should be there was only carpet, a vast, powder-blue carpet that looked brand new.
‘What is this place?’ said Missy.
‘Anteroom to the unknown,’ Silas smiled. He walked into the room and opened a trapdoor, a square yard of carpet lifted away to reveal a dark aperture.
‘The head torches,’ Silas said. ‘In my backpack.’ The kid with no name unzipped the bag on his father’s back and fished out the three head torches. ‘You first, son. Missy’ll be right behind you so there’s nothing to be scared of. We’re doing this together.’
The kid walked over to the hole in the ground and looked at Missy. ‘You coming?’
Avoiding eye contact with Silas, Missy walked over to the trapdoor and switched on her head torch. There was a ladder and – the bottom of a swimming pool. It was still here. A strange thought. To be standing over a swimming pool like this, as though on the surface of the water. Missy watched the boy with no name descend and followed after.
Missy took the boy’s hand in hers and looked around. A swimming pool, you could still smell the chlorine. All the tiny blue tiles, the change in depth from one end to the other. It gave her butterflies in her stomach. There was a dull slam as the trapdoor closed above them. Utter silence. The combined light from their three head torches created enough ambient light that Missy could see a door. Goosebumps. A door at the bottom of a swimming pool. It gave Missy a very bad feeling, like a dream turning into a nightmare.
54
River was hyped, dancing along the corridor like a boxer, one foot to the other. Dancing to the beats in his head inside the grizzly headpiece. Somewhere in this house, in one of these rooms: the key to Missy’s disappearance. Someone with all the answers and River ready to show them what time it is. That’s right. Left-right-left-left-right. But that wasn’t the whole story. River was hyped because . . . well . . . he’d waited his whole life for this. These rooms. Their secrets. Their sum total was who his father really was. Versailles. Versailles was Casey’s box of tricks.
These rooms. Casey Baer, CEO of the internet’s pre-eminent social network. A man for his times. But his own profile online was pure fiction, an extension of the company’s corporate identity. The pictures. The updates. There was nothing there but an all-American greatest hits, all straight edges and no blood, no mess. A gilded cipher. The real Casey Baer? In River’s dreams, Casey was a reptile, skirting the curtained borders of his subconscious, a continuous billowing of black silk. The real Casey Baer was in these rooms, behind these white doors. Versailles. His life’s work. His testing ground. His box of tricks. River stopped in front of his first door. He’d lived in this house most of his life and had never set foot inside this room. Wild. He reached out and took hold of the handle, the rest of his body was still dancing. The rest of his body was still the old River. The one about to open this door—
Inside the room was pitch black . . .
And then a spotlight.
For a delirious second River thought he was going to die, and his death was lion-shaped. It reared up at him, over him, its two mighty paws poised to tear him a new existence. And in that moment River saw his life, the unfolding perspective. His whole life, no pictures this time, no sequence. His death was lion-shaped, but River saw his life, his true self, and his life was panther-shaped, full-blood, his black fur gleaming in this light, the infinity still before him, his will to live in this new body, his strength of vision, to leap, descend with gravity
and sink his teeth, his black fur gleaming, the will to live, two sets of claws out front, the lion still before him. For a delirious second he thought he was going to die, and in that moment River stepped forward, not back, toward the lion, like, what, you want some of this? This was River Baer, making up, shaping up, waking up. He closed his eyes against the mayhem, ready for his bloodbath.
Nothing. No sound or fury. River opened his eyes and saw the lion on all four paws, his mouth wide open in a silent roar. And then he realized. Another step forward and he could reach out and touch the glass. Non-reflective glass, almost invisible to the naked eye. Pre-market, it had to be, he’d never seen anything like this before. River ran his fingertips in a rainbow arc across the uncanny surface and the lion went berserk, a vortex of violence beyond. River watched on as the lion did everything it could to destroy him. It was strange, River held his ground, but it was like facing off ten car crashes at once, the adrenaline, his heart and hands, this readiness to fight, to fly, and fight again. River felt naked, his clothes fallen away like a shrugged cape. Himself an animal, but he knew the glass would hold. This glass, this room. A room designed for just this feeling – a dream of death, a brush with life. River turned away from the lion as it continued to paw at the glass, its sharp claws making no sound, its roars that might as well be yawns. River turned and walked away without looking back, this new feeling throughout his body. A newfound courage. In the corridor he removed the grizzly bear headpiece. Not a kid anymore. He wiped the sweat from his brow and tossed his longish hair. He was River Baer, prince of the internet, ready to bring his mad skills offline.
55
Mrs Synthea waved from the water and Leticia waved back. It was good to see her like this, swimming in the ocean. Almost happy. She felt the vibration against her thigh. Her cellphone. It was vibrating in her pocket. Leticia angled it away from the sun so she could tell who it was. Mr Casey. Calling her on the phone. Why? It was never good with this man. She didn’t want to answer but what could she do? The waves breaking gentle at her feet. She touched the green button and breathed.
His voice was calm. He told her to come back to the house. There were people waiting at the house. Visitors. And Synthea must come, she was expected. His voice was calm and Leticia said okay. She put the phone in her pocket and took a step into the ocean. She called out to Synthea to come back. Too far. She was too far out to hear so she called again, louder this time. She hoped it wasn’t bad. She hoped Mrs Synthea was not in trouble. His voice was calm, but he was like this, Mr Casey. He knew how to talk to people. She called out and Synthea seemed to change direction.
As Synthea swam, she forgot everything else, even her daughter, even her son. The effects of the pill. It didn’t matter anymore because she was in the water. This was the first time, the first time in a long time. She could not remember why. Swimming was dreaming. Synthea dipped her head under the surface and when she came up again couldn’t help smiling. Her hair wet now, eyes stinging with the salt water, she might never see her children again. What kind of thought is that? What kind of thought . . . ? She divided the water with her hands and arms and kicked out with her legs. Forward motion. Swimming was a great pleasure. Swimming was dreaming. She waved to Leticia on the beach, not long enough for her to see. She would miss Leticia, the water reflecting the sun between them, she would miss this woman. What kind of thought? The effects of the pill. Fade out. It didn’t matter anymore because she was swimming. Her arms, her arms, this time alone was precious, the feeling of her body moving through the salt water, this time before her feet must find the sand again. Synthea swam a little further out, out of her depth, the colder water on her feet, Leticia standing on the beach with the soft towel waiting, the sun reflecting off the water between them. She waved to Leticia and swam a little further out. Still further. Swimming was her time alone, her only escape. Her two beautiful children, but this was time alone, Versailles beyond the tall palms, the dark window of her office, the colder water on her feet and knees and thighs. Someone calling her. Calling distance. Leticia on the beach. Okay, too far. Okay, I’m coming. Synthea turned in the water and swam back towards the shore. Swimming she was young again. A little girl, her mother standing on the beach, calling her back, the ocean glittering between them, a swell so subtle as to go unnoticed. The pull of the ocean, this time before her feet must find the sand. Something made her stop. Leticia waving for her to come back, but why, why should she when out here she was not a little girl anymore, she could swim as long as she wanted. Synthea turned on her back and spread out her limbs wide, the sky above so blue, bluer than anything she’d ever seen. A swell so subtle as to go unnoticed.
56
He reached out and took hold of the handle, but he wasn’t scared this time. This was the new River, bubbling over the surface, ready for anything. He pushed on the white door and walked over the threshold. Like entering the reptile house at the zoo. This room was warm with technology, three custom-built LCD screens occupying every inch of three adjacent walls. A chapel hush. He looked to his right and froze. It was him, at that very moment. The image on the screen was a live security feed of him from above having entered this room. He looked up and saw the glint of a lens. He waved. He looked left and saw Leticia on the beach outside Versailles. A long lens shot of Leticia standing on the beach and looking out at the water, hand raised in salute but no, she was shielding her eyes from the sun, looking for something. There. His mother, swimming in the ocean. She was pretty far out from the beach, he hoped she was okay. River shifted from his left to his right foot. He didn’t know it but he had his hands in his pockets. The fidelity of these cameras was insane, like nothing he had seen before. This technology was like, two, maybe even three years away. River turned his attention to the screen straight ahead. This he didn’t recognize. A cavernous room defined by a single pane of curving glass that framed a view of the sky so total it almost looked outdoors. It was a swimming pool, but there was no swimming pool. A vast, powder-blue carpet where the water should be and – River walked closer to the LCD to get a better look – a trapdoor? He stepped back again. It was like a surrealist painting. A swimming pool with a trapdoor leading beyond the surface of the water. But this wasn’t a painting. It was a real place. Whatever this was, it was happening now, and the logic of this room told River it was happening to his sister.
The logic of this room and the truth hit River like a bear attack. He nearly lost his footing where he stood. His father. All this time he’d known. Casey. Tracking Missy’s every move. She was running, but not away. Her every move caught on camera, and relayed back to Versailles. His multiple devices. Missy running, but not away, away from what, though? That was the question. And Deep Sky. His father willing to hand his daughter over to a cult? Working with them somehow? For what . . .? Oh, Jesus Christ.
A second pawswipe. unknown_user, ruhin, InnerFame. They were all the same person. Casey himself. His father diverting River all this time while those bastards kidnapped his sister. No announcements on the network, unknown_user said, no cops. Deep Sky. Casey Baer, CEO of the internet’s pre-eminent social network. Missy knew something about their father that he didn’t want made public and this was his solution. Hand her over to some crazy secretive cult, make her disappear. Worse. Missy running, but not away. Deep Sky. A trap. A series of traps designed to look like an adventure, a rebellion. But why? What was so bad that he had to send Missy away? It couldn’t be. His father? Abusing his own daughter? It couldn’t be. But really what did he know about his father? Less than Wikipedia. Zip. A continuous billowing of black silk. His father was the most powerful man on the internet, one of the richest people on the planet. Who knew what that did to a person? That kind of power? His father, Casey Baer. Just another man playing God with porn on the other screen.
But he was somewhere in this house. His father was in one of these rooms and River had to find him and confront him. The logic of this room. Three screens, three Baers. Three lives played out on film an
d relayed back. It chilled him to the bone. His beautiful sister, flying crocodile. The whole thing caught on film. Captured. Motherfucker, he thought. The level of control. His sister flying like an arrow from Casey’s bow, her black feathers fluttering in the wind, her wings fluttering with black feathers. That motherfucker, River thought. He aimed his potato gun at the camera above and pulled the trigger. Crack. He checked the screen and yes: a long, diagonal crack, bottom left to top right, his likeness behind a thin film of potato juice. River replaced the gun inside the waistband of his jeans and went to look for his father.
An abandoned subway station. No signs, no maps, no color down here. But there were lights, and a train waiting on the platform.
‘This is it,’ Silas said. ‘The last stage of your journey. We can go no further.’
‘You mean you’re just going to leave me here?’ said Missy.
The boy with no name walked toward Missy and put his arms around her waist. ‘I’m gonna miss you,’ he said.
‘I’m going to miss you too,’ said Missy. She knelt down and kissed him on his cheek.
Silas gestured for her to enter the train and Missy did so without thinking.
‘Remember, Missy,’ Silas said. ‘You’re here because you’ve been chosen. You were chosen out of millions of other people because you possess certain qualities, and it’s these characteristics that we think will stand you in good stead for the next phase of your journey.’