How to Save the Universe in Ten Easy Steps

by Allison Rushby

  The truth is, it’s nothing like Peregrination. And it’s not just the scenery that’s different, because everywhere you look, there are people. Old people, young people, Japanese people, foreigners. Everyone is out enjoying Hanami, cherry-blossom-viewing season … Hang on, how did I know it was called Hanami? The word just popped into my head. Thank you, Molly and Hale, I guess.

  ‘Drat,’ Mum says, ‘I’ve left the guidebook at the hotel on the very day we’re going to need it most. You didn’t pick it up, did you sweetheart?’

  ‘Sorry, no. But it’s okay,’ I say, ‘We don’t need it. It’s this way – along the Philosopher’s Walk. Remember we read about it? It’s where the famous Japanese philosopher Nishida Kitaro is supposed to have walked and meditated every day. The Silver Pavilion, Ginkaku-ji, is up the end, so we can visit that as well.’ Amazingly, all these words simply tumble out of my mouth, despite the fact that I have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about. It sounds good, though. ‘So, ready to go, then?’

  ‘Of course!’ Mum beams. ‘I’m so pleased you remembered all of that. Lead the way, clever son!’

  I feel bad that Hale and Molly and I are tricking her but do as she asks and start off along the path, the small stones crunching under my feet. After all, this is the only way she’s ever going to live out her dream, and the way things are going, who knows how much time we have left? If Molly can’t even detect all these Ecens and Rewluts and so on that are turning up, how much hope do I have of saving the universe, even if I can spout obscure facts about Japanese philosophers?

  I try to focus on Mum enjoying the walk as we stroll along the winding path. We stop to take photos on small stone bridges as we go, her smile growing wider in each one. It feels terrible and wonderful all at the same time to be able to do this for her today – like I’m both a liar and a hero. As we keep going, we admire the traditional wooden houses with their dark tiled roofs and the modern houses and just about everything else. We stop to pat a cat (‘A Japanese cat!’ Mum gushes and we both laugh, because, well … it looks like any other cat, really). We stop at all kinds of little stalls for snacks, too. We try crunchy cinnamon biscuits, bought from an old man at a shop with bright red paper lanterns, sweet potato treats and a drink from a vending machine called ‘Pocari Sweat’ that we dare each other to drink, but which actually doesn’t taste so bad once you taste it.

  It’s after this that Hale really steps things up. Maybe he thinks the rest of the walk is too boring, because some sumo wrestlers appear on the path before us, then a geisha, who hands us an origami crane.

  ‘Enough!’ I hiss out of the corner of my mouth when I spot Mount Fuji in the distance, completely out of place.

  Things calm down and, finally, we reach Ginkaku-ji, the Silver Pavilion. It never got its coat of silver and I’m really hoping Hale doesn’t give it one now.

  ‘I am so happy,’ she says, over and over again as she looks around her – at the Zen temple, at the raked sand garden and amazing sand cone, the moss garden and all the little islands and bridges. ‘So very, very happy.’

  When we finally leave, Mum turns to me. ‘This has been the most perfect afternoon, hasn’t it?’ she says, her eyes wet.

  And I nod, because it really has. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mum so happy.

  But for me … for me it’s been one of the worst. Because what I’ve just seen makes me ache inside for what my mother has missed. What I’ve just agreed to – it’s not ‘living the experience’. It couldn’t be further from it. The untruthfulness of what I’ve done wells up inside me and I hate myself. For the lies I’ve spun. For how I’ve tricked her. I turn back to say something to her again, but she’s gone and Hale and Molly are in her place.

  I sit down on a rocky wall that edges a garden. ‘Thanks,’ I say, feeling deflated. ‘It meant a lot to her.’

  ‘It was my pleasure.’ Hale inclines his head slightly.

  And Molly – Molly just watches me closely, saying nothing at all.

  CHAPTER 23

  The trip to Japan plays on my mind all afternoon. So much so that I can’t eat my lunch. (Trusty garbage guts Ethan helps out, though.)

  After the ride home with Ethan, I’m feeling even more miserable, the thought of what I’ve done gnawing at my brain. Sitting on our bikes outside my house, under today’s brownish-grey streaked sky (not the prettiest), we exchange a look. ‘Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you’ve got some sort of gastro or something?’

  ‘No, it’s just …’ I so wish I could tell him everything that’s going on, but I can’t. I can’t, because … oh.

  Oh.

  I realise something then. Something big. Something bigger than big.

  I can’t tell him. I can’t tell him because he’s my friend. And telling him would make things easier for me, but worse for him. Telling him would make him confused. Afraid.

  Suddenly I get it. I think today – the trip to Japan – was some kind of test. Molly and Hale were testing me. But why? And about what?

  I realise I know what I have to do and feel a whole lot better. ‘I’m sure I’ll be okay by the morning,’ I tell Ethan. ‘I’ll go to bed early. Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘Well, see you, then.’

  ‘Yeah, see you tomorrow.’

  I ride around the back of the house and dump my bike. ‘Mum? Dad?’ I yell. Just like I thought, they’re at work – at the pool. I wanted to make sure, though. I know Molly isn’t home from school yet, because she walks (she thinks bikes are beyond ridiculous), so I call her in my head.

  Molly? MOLLY!

  ‘What? What’s wrong?’ She appears in the blink of an eye, school backpack on her back.

  ‘Nothing. I just wanted to talk to you.’

  ‘You scared me. I thought something was wrong. You’ve never done that before. Called me like that.’

  ‘Well, up until a few days ago, I didn’t know I could.’

  ‘That’s true.’ She lets her backpack slide to the ground.

  ‘Actually, it’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Hale, too.’ HALE! I call him as well. And, just like Molly, he appears in another blink of an eye. JACK!

  ‘Yes?’ Hale says.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Jack adds.

  Molly gives both of them a wary look. ‘Cooper wants to talk to us about something.’

  ‘Oh?’ Hale replies.

  ‘I do.’ I nod, looking from one of them to the other and down at Jack. ‘It’s about today. About the trip to Japan.’

  Molly gives Hale a look, even warier this time. ‘Oh?’

  I take a deep breath. ‘I want you to erase it from Mum’s mind.’

  ‘Why?’ Molly and Hale both speak at once, while Jack looks on.

  I think about this for a moment, because I want to get the words just right. ‘Because it feels wrong. Like I lied to her.’

  ‘But it’s what she wanted. And what you wanted for her.’ Hale looks confused.

  ‘I know. But it’s not real. It was Japan in five minutes or less. It wasn’t the real experience.’

  ‘It’s real to her,’ he argues, looking more animated than I’ve ever seen him. ‘I can make it real for you as well, if you like.’ Hale takes a step towards me.

  But Molly sticks out an arm, holding him back. ‘No,’ both she and I say at the same time. Loudly.

  ‘No,’ I add again. ‘No, I want you to erase it. If I … if I manage this saving the universe thing, I’ll take her. For real.’

  ‘Define “real”,’ Hale says.

  I shake my head. ‘There’s what’s true and what’s not true and taking Mum on that trip today was a lie. It was fake. I don’t want her to remember something fake, even if it does make her happy.’ I glance over at Molly to see what she thinks about this and I’m not surprised to find she looks sort of triumphant. So I was right. This was a test after all. And whatever it was about, Molly was right.

  ‘I’ve just erased the trip from Mum’s memory,’ Molly tells
me, before turning to Hale. ‘Do you see now? You have no idea. You don’t know what they’re like. I knew it would be better this way. Harder, but better. And right.’

  I butt in now, as things click together in my mind. ‘Is this all about your “difference of opinion”? Why you left?’

  Hale glances at Molly, who shrugs a ‘may as well tell him’ shrug. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Molly thought you should live an existence as Earth-like as possible, in this bubble concoction of hers,’ he waves a hand. ‘I thought the opposite – that you should be allowed to know anything and everything, travel anywhere and everywhere through time and space. She has always attempted to argue that having you know anything and everything would detract from your … humanness. If there is such a thing. You are human simply because of your birth, are you not?’

  ‘See? You still don’t understand. You never will,’ Molly pipes up. ‘You would have been happy for Cooper to know anything and everything and to travel anywhere and everywhere, but then you would have erased every single memory of this and created other memories the moment he began his life on Earth. False memories. More lies.’

  ‘Which he would never have known about.’ Hale shrugs. ‘So what does it matter?’

  ‘You don’t want to understand, do you? Can’t you see it’s what matters most? It’s what makes Cooper human.’

  ‘But it’s all too difficult. Too messy.’ Hale waves a hand, flicking Molly’s concerns away.

  ‘Being human is messy!’ Molly huffs. ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along! This is what you need to get through your head!’

  I stand in silence, looking from one of them to the other.

  Wow.

  Just … wow.

  I’m amazed at what I’ve heard. What I’ve learnt. What I’ve just realised Molly has been doing for me – developing the one thing inside me that I will probably need most if I ever make it back to Earth. She’s let me be human. The part of me today that knew the trip was wrong, even while we were on it, even while I watched Mum enjoying probably the happiest day of her life, that was the human part of me. All along, prickly, bad-tempered Molly has been trying to nurture this part of me that she barely understands, when I’m sure she would have been happier dragging me all over the universe, or universes, or whatever, with no bubble at all. She’s lived here, in this weird bubble that she’s constructed in the best way she can, with only Jack for any real company. She’s done all this when Hale couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.

  Yeah, so … wow.

  Suddenly, I look around me and get over myself. I stop seeing the lack of grass. I stop seeing what’s not here and start seeing what I’ve got. Then, after a while spent processing all of this, I turn around to Molly and Jack, who’s standing beside her. ‘After …’

  ‘Yes?’ She frowns slightly, her eyes studying me closely.

  ‘After …’ I don’t want to say it. ‘If I can …’

  She nods, understanding what I mean, what I can’t bring myself to say.

  ‘What will you do? Will you go home? With Hale? Or wherever it is you guys come from?’

  Molly looks a bit taken aback by my question. ‘Oh. Well …’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I say, quickly. ‘You can tell me. I know you must want to go back or whatever.’

  Molly bites her lip for a moment or two, then looks down at Jack. ‘Jack and I have spoken about it and … well … we thought we might come to Earth and live with you. And Mum and Dad.’ The end of her sentence comes out in a big rush, her words falling over each other – as if she’s almost scared to say it.

  I can’t believe my ears. I look at Molly first, then down at Jack. ‘But won’t you be bored?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Every day I expect.’ Molly shrugs. Then laughs. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m kind of used to it now.’

  ‘I hear there are a lot of dogs on Earth,’ Jack adds. ‘You wouldn’t know, because you don’t remember being there, but I might have a couple of pictures of standard poodles stuck up in my kennel. If I can’t beat them, I may as well join them, hey?’

  ‘I don’t think I needed to know that.’ I grimace, before looking back at Molly. ‘I guess if you get bored you can always do more funny voices. Chipmunks on Tuesdays, accents on Wednesdays, dolphin-squeaking on Thursdays. Or something.’

  Molly winces. ‘I haven’t actually done dolphin-squeaking yet.’

  ‘Well, there you go. Maybe I have some ideas up my sleeve. Maybe I’m not as useless as you think.’

  Molly looks a bit sad when I say this. ‘You’re not useless, Cooper. Sorry if I ever made you feel that way. Sorry for being so … frustrated all the time. There are a lot of things I’ve been wrong about along the way. Things I could have done better.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I say. And while it wasn’t okay before, I get it now. I really do. I get everything she’s done for me when she didn’t have to do anything at all except keep me safe. ‘You know something?’ I say to her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I reckon you’ll be all right on Earth. I reckon you’re more human than you think.’

  Molly opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out.

  And that’s when something amazing happens.

  For the first time in my life, I step forward and hug my sister.

  And, for the first time in her life, she hugs me back.

  ‘Right.’ I step away from her. I don’t feel sick to my stomach at all anymore. In fact, I feel full of energy. I look at Molly and over at Hale and then down at Jack. ‘Let’s do this saving-the-universe thing,’ I say, loudly.

  Having got that out there, we all stand and stare at each other. Then up at the sky, then down at the ground, then at each other again.

  Awkward.

  ‘I guess it’s not time yet,’ I cringe.

  ‘No,’ the three of them reply.

  ‘So, um, afternoon tea, then?’

  ‘You’re just going to have to eat it and look like you’re enjoying yourself.’ I hold out the packet of chocolate biscuits to Molly, perched on top of her stool at the kitchen bench. ‘No kid in their right mind would say no. And, please, try slouching a little. You’ll be a teenager soon.’

  As she takes a chocolate biscuit from the packet, she tries slouching. Which, for Molly, means adjusting her spine maybe 1 per cent.

  ‘That’s pathetic,’ I say, my mouth full of biscuit. ‘Another one?’ I offer the packet to Hale, who takes one. He’s been kind of quiet since I asked for Mum’s memory of our trip to be erased.

  ‘Oi! Down here!’ Jack says, from under the bench.

  ‘Chocolate’s bad for dogs,’ I tell him.

  ‘Having your ankles savaged is bad for humans,’ he replies.

  ‘Right, then.’ I throw him a biscuit and he catches it neatly in his mouth and gulps it down.

  ‘Good to know we have an understanding,’ he says. ‘Now, how many have you—’ His eyes snap back to Molly and Hale.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I ask, slowly.

  ‘Should we show him?’ Hale asks and both Molly and Jack nod. ‘Come and take a look,’ he adds.

  The next thing I know, I’m standing upright in between Molly and Hale, with Jack in front of us. We’re no longer in the kitchen, but out near the town sign – in fact, right where I’d been with Ethan just the other day. The day we’d seen that first sluggy Rewlut envoy.

  Except, today, there isn’t a slug in sight. Instead, hunting around on one of the surrounding hills, is a bunch of what can only be Ecens.

  They look pretty weird.

  ‘That’s where they took me from,’ Jack says. ‘I saw the Rewlut slug and knew I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help myself. Stupid dog tendencies. As soon as my nose touched it, that was it.’

  The four of us watch the Ecens, all clambering over the hill, looking for something. Clues, I guess. About me. This time, however, they don’t look like little girls in sailor suits (even ones with tails). This time, they have gone all out.

  There is a
basket of fluffy white kittens. With something approximating short, scaly brown legs.

  There are what looks like two newborn babies, with big pink and blue bows on their heads, only they’re upright and walking.

  There are two baby pandas. With what look like fangs.

  And there are two very large chocolate cakes, losing chocolate flakes as they hover. Yes. Hover. A feat I have personally never seen a chocolate cake perform before.

  All things that should be seen as extremely non-threatening – kittens, newborns, baby pandas, cake – if the Ecens ever managed to get anything right, that is.

  As I watch them in disbelief, I slowly start shaking my head. ‘You aliens might be all evolved and everything, but you know something?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You all do human really, really badly.’

  ‘I’m starting to realise that,’ Molly says, her eyes still glued to the Ecens.

  We laugh.

  ‘Hey!’ I say, clapping my hands, breaking things up. ‘Let’s do this saving-the-universe thing!’

  Three pairs of eyes turn to me.

  ‘Hmmm … I guess it’s still not time yet.’

  CHAPTER 24

  At school the next day, it is actually a relief to concentrate on a whole lesson of fractions (see how bad things have got?). For a few minutes I’m able to believe the world is normal again. That I’m back in boring old Peregrination, where nothing ever happens, or will happen.

  I wish.

  At lunchtime, I sit with Ethan, thinking my own thoughts as Ethan gabbles beside me between mouthfuls of sandwich and bits of my lunch, which is pretty much our normal lunchtime routine. I tune back in when I hear him mention slugs.

  ‘Yeah, I had this really bad dream about these slug things.’