So Below: The Trilogy

by Matt Whyman

“Abusing my powers?” comes the astonished reply, from the girl who Yoshi has yet to see. “Our parents think you’re helping us get to grips with our abilities. They have no idea that you treat us like laboratory animals. Now that is what I call an abuse of power!”

  A guard stands on the upper level. He’s leaning against the balcony, looking quietly amused by this exchange of insults. He watches the woman being led from the lobby. Man, he’s seen some crazy things within these walls. Witnessing the doctor being dumped from a great height wasn’t out of the ordinary. The stunts these freaks in here can pull leave a grin on his face sometimes. Take the twins who can start a fire just by putting their minds to it. The day they caused the doctor’s lunchbox to burst into flames was a high point. All the so-called residents here can be kind of unruly at times; but then who can blame them?

  The guard observes the doctor in question being led into her office, and scratches his behind. If he was a kid who found he could make objects move just by touching his temples, or saw things happening behind locked doors, he’d question whether this outfit really had his best interests at heart too. The Foundation may have been set up to help these youngsters get to grips with their abilities, but some of the things Mr Aleister put them through didn’t seem to benefit anyone but him. His obsession with the churches was a case in point. How many times had he been asked to chaperone some kid to a crypt or a nave, only to stand back while old baldy had words with them? Whatever was said seemed to scare up half of them, even bring them to tears. He didn’t like it, but then he was paid to keep the kids in order, not make a fuss about their welfare.

  Reflecting on his time here, the guard attempts to pick his pants from the crack of his backside. This place may be tough on the residents at times, he thinks, but it was a jammy job in one paradise of a building. Keeping watch from this, the upper viewing gallery, was the post they all wanted. It was bathed with sunshine on a good day, and had a glorious view of the stars on a clear night. Best of all you were up here on your own. You could take a nap if you wished, and nobody would be any the wiser.

  A soft thumping sound disturbs the guard’s thoughts just then. He turns from the balcony, but there’s nothing to see. Just parlour palms to break up the curving marble wall, with trunks too thin for anyone to hide behind. He shakes his head, figuring it’s probably the girl below working out the last of her tantrum – throwing things at the ceiling with that weird light-force of hers. He glances at his wristwatch, and is pleased to see that it’s nearly time for a tea break. After doing nothing for so long, he thinks with a private smile, it would be good to sit down for a while.

  On the other side of the balcony, a boy dangles from the lowest rail and prays this guy doesn’t look down to his left. Yoshi tightens his grip, tries not to breathe too loudly. Both palms are still stinging from where they had slapped around the rail and stopped him from turning to ketchup on the lobby floor. A monkey fling. That was the name of the move he had just executed. It had sprung into his mind in midair, which wasn’t a good time to disturb his concentration. First Yoshi had lowered himself through the skylight, then rocked back and forth to build up momentum. On the final swing, he had let go, spread his arms and fixed his sights on the rail. The foliage hanging from the balcony had served to cushion his arrival. He had figured it might also be strong enough to serve as a safety net should he miss. Which he hadn’t. Much to his relief.

  The question Yoshi asks himself now is just how long can he hang around? Above him, the guard sounds kind of restless. The boy dares to glance up, and sees the guy shaking one leg as if trying to straighten out his trousers. He closes his eyes, his arms beginning to ache, and then opens them smartly when a squeak of jackboot soles on marble suggests it’s time to seize the moment.

  This is the true test. Not of skill but of strength. With the guard leaving his post, Yoshi has just seconds to haul himself up and over the balcony. He lands soundlessly, having removed his shoes before making the leap. Forward thinking is what it takes to be a free runner, and Yoshi can’t afford to put a foot wrong. His shoes are strung around his shoulders now, and bump about as he flits across the floor to catch up with the guard.

  Of all the things he has learned from his time with the crew, this manoeuvre is something he picked up just by watching. He’s seen one young punk in action on the streets of Covent Garden, and now it’s his turn to try it out – the art of shadowing. The big difference between the set-up for a trick and what he’s doing here is that he can’t afford to bail out or get it wrong. Yoshi knows he has to be invisible, which means mimicking the man’s moves so closely that they practically become one.

  One sugar or two? That’s all the guard is thinking as he ambles towards the elevator. He’s only travelling to the level below, but, well, taking the stairs would eat into his break time. Whistling to himself now, he punches the button on the panel beside the doors. His number takes a while to light up, and so he seizes this opportunity to really pick at the seat of his pants while nobody is looking.

  The doors are made from brushed steel. The guard can seen his own reflection, just about. It’s a bit blurry, and makes him look like he should be eating a little less dessert. So much so that he sucks in his gut and turns side on just to make sure. The lift arrives with a ping, and the doors slide apart before he’s had a chance to resign himself to the fact that this job has turned him into a tubby. Unfortunately, he discovers with a heavy heart, the three interior walls of the lift are fitted with mirrors from floor to ceiling.

  22

  BACK FOR YOU

  Yoshi is so close to the guard that he can smell his body odour. The cheesy reek trails him like the boy himself, silently and invisibly. Every step and scratch the guard makes, Yoshi mirrors the move. Every sudden turn at the doors, the boy swivels around and out of his line of sight. It isn’t until they’re in the lift that Yoshi becomes aware of the fact that he can see himself on both sides.

  One false move, he thinks to himself, this show is over.

  The guard abandons the tune he’s been whistling so badly, and turns to punch the button for his floor. With no desire to look at himself too closely – given the extra pounds he’s packing – he’s happy to focus on the balcony he’s about to leave behind. Just as the doors begin to shut, however, he swears something doesn’t look quite right with the skylight. He scratches at his behind one final time, cursing the condition he’s suffering back there on account of all that sitting between shifts, and decides he’ll investigate this level later. Later. After a nice cup of tea and a biscuit.

  Yoshi’s senses feel like lasers, the way he’s forced to focus on every sudden move. He feels scared being this close to someone who could do him harm, and also very stupid. If this blimp were a statue, it wouldn’t be so hard to hide behind him. But he isn’t made of stone. He’s flesh, blood and bone, like him. Flesh, blood and bone that could simply squash him flat if he knew what is going on behind his back.

  The boy breathes out at the same time as the doors slide open. He’s made it to the floor he wants. He knows he is within reach of the room where the girl must have faced up to that woman in the white coat. It’s getting there that could be a problem, as the guard moves out before the boy is ready, and turns in the opposite direction. For one long moment, Yoshi is left feeling exposed and startled. Several guards occupy this floor, some of whom nod at the man he has shadowed this far. The boy’s heart begins to pound. He flexes his fingers, feeling thrilled but also chilled to be operating without cover, and then reaches for the shoes strung around his neck. There’s only one way out, the boy decides. With the shoes in one hand now, he twirls them like a pair of karate nunchucks, and then flings them as far as he can.

  Yoshi watches the lace-bound shoes helicopter over the head of the guard looking out over the atrium. The crash that follows occurs one, maybe two levels down. It sounds like a display vase breaking, certainly something precious, and is enough to draw the attention of every goon the boy can see.
/>   “What the heck was that?”

  “Go check it out, Butch.”

  “What if it’s one of the whacko kids? I don’t trust ’em, boss. They all must have heard the argument just now. You know what those kids can be like when it comes to settling scores. I’m not going to walk into a set-up and come back jibbering and drooling like a baby. I’ve seen what mind-tricks they can pull when they’re angry. We should go together.”

  “Butch, come here a moment.”

  “What is it, boss— ouch!”

  “You think a poke in the eye hurts? That’s nothin’! I’m ashamed to be your superior! Now fall in behind me, and if any of those suckers look at me funny, you get me out of there sharpish. Is that clear?”

  “Yessir!”

  Watching this security spat from the elevator, and with a light shining on him from above, Yoshi prays these bickering guards aren’t as lazy as the sloth he just used to get this far. With baited breath, he watches them leave their posts now. To his great relief, they head for the stairs. Not only that, they skirt the balcony with their attention fixed on the point where his shoes have landed. Misdirection. That was the secret of making magic, according to Mikhail, and it might just have worked here.

  With the guards out of the frame, Yoshi breaks from the elevator, and finds himself facing a whole sweep of rooms around the atrium. What’s more, all of them have doors half open and the same house lights shining from the inside. Just then, voices rise up from a floor below. The guards must be sensing that all is not as it seems, he fears, judging by their air of urgency. Instinctively, and knowing he has no time to lose, Yoshi heads for the room with an unusually bright light. The boy hesitates outside, concerned by what he might find. He even straightens out his shirt, as if conscious of the impression he’s about to make. With a deep breath, he steps over the threshold. With what sounds like a gasp from inside, the light floods and brightens.

  “Yoshi?” It’s a girl’s voice, sounding familiar but cautious.

  “Apparently I told you I’d be back,” he says with a grin, upon which this unusual glow begins to warm and then flicker, as if he’s found himself facing a welcoming hearth fire.

  23

  LET THERE BE LIGHT

  The last time Livia saw Yoshi, Aleister had been snapping at his heels. The boy’s escape may not have been planned, but she was unsurprised when it happened. “Where have you been?” she asks him now, and dries her cheeks with the heel of her hand.

  Yoshi pretends not to notice, despite having found her weeping at the edge of her bed. “Around town,” he says, tensing when she hugs him and plants a kiss on his cheek. “In places you wouldn’t believe.”

  She senses his discomfort and pulls away to meet his eyes. “What’s happened? You can tell me. We always tell each other everything. You look like you don’t even know who I am, Yoshi. It’s me. Livia.”

  “I don’t really know myself,” he confesses. “My memory took a few knocks.”

  The haze around her head and shoulders turns a melancholy blue.

  “He got to you, didn’t he?”

  “The bald guy? He came close,” Yoshi says to reassure her. “Luckily some friends got to me first.”

  Aleister had been pushing him for ages. Every day, he would show up at the Foundation, shrug his stupid showy coat from his shoulders, and fast-track the boy through the programme to perfect the control of his powers. He did the same thing with all the kids who showed real promise, but this unlucky lad seemed to earn the greatest attention. Like almost everyone here, the gift he had was both a blessing and a curse. Some said such psychic abilities were a freak of nature. Others believed it was nature’s way of making the human race aware of other universal energies. All the kids expressed their powers in different ways, but all of them found it shaped their lives – for better and for worse.

  Livia herself had lived in a sphere of translucent light for several years now. Everyone talked of the changes you went through in your teens, but none of her friends had experienced this. For months, Livia had been referred from one doctor to the next, but nobody could diagnose what was causing it. One thing she knew for certain, it singled her out in the very worst way. Her friends became wary, and boys would not go near her. Especially when it became clear that the light changed in colour, contrast and hue according to her emotional state. Any other girl could keep a lid on a crush. Not Livia. Any hint of feeling shone through in the form of this remarkable haze, and she had quickly withdrawn from the world around. So, when her father found details of this place from a colleague in the city, she had been only too willing to enrol.

  “How did you get back inside the building?” she whispers to Yoshi now, closing the door with a click. “The guards see everything!”

  He smiles, unsure where to begin. “A kind of magic,” is all he can say.

  “You’ll never leave alive if Aleister catches you here.”

  “It’s a flying visit,” Yoshi tells her. “Come on. We should get going. There’s so much to see beyond these walls!”

  Livia’s father had been sold on the idea of a residential stay. According to the prospectus, the Foundation’s aim was to help young people like her come to terms with what was happening to them. It was, according to the written testimonials at the back, an opportunity for “unconventionally gifted” children to discover themselves in order to live a full and rewarding life. As Livia had spent many years at boarding school, including the last intolerable term, when her aura seriously blossomed, it seemed worth a shot at least. Even so, for all the anonymous profiles of graduates who had tamed their psychic talents, something about this outfit didn’t feel right. By then, however, Livia’s father had paid the fees. He would miss his daughter with all his heart, but it was a price worth paying to rid her of what he once called “the unfortunate side of her inheritance”.

  As soon as Livia had said her tearful goodbye at the Foundation’s electric gates, knowing she would have no further contact with her family until the people in white coats signed her back into their care, her suspicions began to burn bright. Aleister was at the heart of her misgivings. As the Director, he was as charming as his presence was imposing. He had explained that as a teenager he too had lived in the shadow of his psychic gift: an awareness of the natural forces vibrating through every atom of life. As a young man, so he told her, he had seen such energies everywhere, and over time it drove him insane. Locked in a world of his own, he had relied on church soup kitchens, and kept a pet snake in his pocket so sneak thieves couldn’t fleece him of what pennies he could beg. Had it not been for a determination to get well and help others as he had helped himself, this Foundation would never exist. Livia had listened to every word of his story, and her aura had softened with each sentence. She had felt pity for his plight, and then admiration, but still something left her wary. This man had certainly been to a dark place in his life, but his manner with the kids here made her question whether he might still be revisiting it.

  Then came the tests and exercises. Starting the next day. As soon as she was led into the room with the equipment, and saw the headgear lying on the seat of the chair, Livia had panicked and asked to go home. Aleister had assured her it was merely a monitor, designed to detect electrical changes in the brain, but in Livia’s eyes it was all too much too soon. It made her realise that her aura was a problem for other people, not her. It was a part of who she was, and she would much prefer to live with it than go through this. That’s when she’d seen another side to Aleister. When his patience snapped without warning, she had submitted to his will in fear for her life. The test seemed to sap her spark and energy. It left her with a headache, and a livid aura that did not subside for days. From that moment on, Livia had thought of little else but getting out of here. With guards stationed in the building and the grounds, however, the prospect of escape seemed hopeless. Even now, facing the boy who had managed to get away and then break back in, she can’t fathom how he did it.

  “OK, hotsho
t,” she says. “Show me the way out of this hellhole.”

  Yoshi scans the room, finds a window like the one he went through the first time. “Well—”

  “Don’t even think about it!” Livia informs him. “You might be comfortable flinging yourself across the rooftops – Parkour was pretty much your whole life before they locked you up here, after all – only this is no time for that lesson you promised.”

  “But I made it here on instinct,” he tells her. “You can do it too – you really just need to believe in yourself.”

  As her stay at the foundation turned from days to weeks, Livia had made friends with the other residents. It helped in many ways, reminding her that she was not alone in feeling both confused and violated by the agenda here. The trips to the churches were what really mystified them all. Aleister admitted that it bought back troubling memories of the time when he’d been forced to rely on the grace of their soup kitchens. Indeed, he even confessed that he’d eventually found his own salvation from the streets and the madness that consumed him. And yet despite it all, he’d regularly drag them off on excursions to one of seven sacred locations around London.

  Livia herself found she quite enjoyed the trips. At the very least, it meant being free from the Foundation for a while. Aleister and the guards always kept a close eye on her, but it was peaceful in those churches, and it gave her time to think. Others seriously objected. None more so than the boy who had come to be her closest friend in the nine months she had been a resident. He might have taken off recently, surprising everyone but Livia, but he stood before her now.

  He had arrived just weeks after her, and been assigned living quarters on the other side of the atrium. Even so, once they got to know each other in the canteen, he would visit her regularly in her room just by closing his eyes and concentrating. Remote viewing was what the specialists called his psychic gift. At first, Livia had been deeply mistrustful of any boy who could peek through closed doors and curtains, but then she had got to know him, and come to trust his sense of decency. It also helped that Livia could feel his presence when his mind’s eye opened on her quarters. This way they would spend hours shooting the breeze, sharing jokes and spinning stories, and just keeping each other company, despite being in different rooms. Livia had confided that she came from aristocracy. It was a fact she tended to hide from most people, uncomfortable as she was with her landed wealth and privilege. In return, the boy who was the first to stand up to Aleister and flee from his control, promised her one thing. When they were both free, he would teach the girl a way of life that would allow her to scale to great heights with her determination, passion, grace and skill.