Danny’s insides shook a little. It probably meant whatever race his dad had bet on, he hadn’t won. Empty lager cans littered the worn carpet and the ashtray on the small side table overflowed. When his dad woke up, he was going to have a headache. And if he hadn’t won anything at the bookies, then it was likely that he wasn’t going to have any money to go out drinking again. Without even realising he was doing it, Danny pressed himself back against the wall. He could see the night stretching out in front of him; at best, his dad would sleep until they were well into the evening, but if not there was no way Danny could hide in his room from his dad’s bad mood for ever. Steve Dillard wasn’t the kind of man who liked to deal with his anger himself. He liked to have someone to take it out on. Ghosts of old bruises whispered across his skin and his bones ached. In his head, his dad’s shouting was just a sheet of angry noise and terror. Some things you just never got used to. He pulled the door to and crept away.
In his bedroom he opened a window to let in some cool, fresh air and carefully unwrapped the object from his coat. His half-read comic was forgotten. As soon as he’d seen the thing roll away from Luke Perry, he’d known he wanted it. They hadn’t known what it was, but he had. It was a kaleidoscope, he was sure of it. He’d had a cheap one for Christmas from his nan back when his mum was still around. He’d loved the patterns it made as the beads inside shifted and turned. It was like looking into another magical world.
He lifted the long cylinder. It was cool and heavy in his hands. This one wouldn’t break as easily as the last. No size ten shoe would be able to shatter it in one drunken stamp and leave it in glittering shards, its magic ruined, crushed into the carpet. This one might break the foot instead. He smiled a little but there was no warmth in it. That was something he’d like to see. A look of surprise in his dad’s eyes that something was fighting back. Something wasn’t breakable.
One end was black as marble and he peered through the other. His room grew gloomy. This wasn’t like his old kaleidoscope. That was all patterns and colours; he hadn’t been able to see anything real through it. He tried turning the far section but nothing happened. He frowned, his heart dragging itself back down to the dark place it hid in. For a brief moment, he’d thought he had something special. Something of his own. He chewed his bottom lip. Maybe it wasn’t a traditional toy, but it had to do something. He could hear his dad still snoring, and it had the deep, steady rhythm of someone who wouldn’t be woken easily. Danny had learned to gauge those sounds over the years. It was always a risky bet, because the only things predictable about Steve Dillard were his drinking and his temper, but Danny was pretty sure he could go back into the lounge without disturbing the monster from its slumber. He made his way back, the heavy tube at his side. Maybe if he looked at the TV with it, it would do something. From a safe place in the doorway, he tried. The horses still ran as normal round the track but, instead of the bright green of the turf, the background had deadened to a midnight blue. His heart sank further. Whatever this thing did, he wasn’t sure he could figure it out.
His dad snorted, a low cough of saliva and snot perhaps stuck momentarily in his throat, and Danny jumped, instinctively turning to look at him, the machine still pressed to his eye. Steve Dillard settled back into his sleep.
Danny Dillard gasped. The view had come alive in silvers and golds. His dad’s skin shone. The stained and old flowery armchair that had once been his mum’s favourite was lost in a metallic ocean that hummed with a sheen of pearlescent blues and pinks, but his father’s image was clear. And it was clean. Frowning, he lowered the kaleidoscope or whatever it was for a moment. He looked at his father.
Steve Dillard wasn’t much more than 40 but, with his diet of beer, cigarettes and cheap takeaway food, his body had long ago given up any attempt at holding itself together and had slumped outwards in a large, pale belly that was often found hanging below his T-shirts. His skin was dry and blotchy on his face, and his smile was seen so rarely that his mouth had thinned. He looked like a man in his fifties easily; a properly old man, rather than someone’s dad.
Danny raised the kaleidoscope again and looked carefully. The glory of the background was distracting but he focused on his father instead. Through the glass, his dad’s skin seemed to have smoothed out. The lines that had set into his forehead from his permanent frown had disappeared. Instead of looking like a drunk asleep, his dad just looked like anyone else having a quick afternoon nap in front of the telly. Danny smiled. His fingers tingled as the kaleidoscope grew warm under them. It tickled. The heat spread through him and his heart lifted a little. This was a good thing. He could tell.
‘So, you had it. And then you lost it?’ Ianto looked doubtfully from Toshiko back to Gwen and Owen.
‘Something like that,’ Gwen muttered.
‘Stop stressing.’ Toshiko flicked her hair back over her shoulder. ‘We’ll find it again. You’re always so uptight.’
Gwen’s hand paused on the way to sip her coffee. Had Tosh really just said that? Her eyes caught Ianto’s and they both raised an eyebrow.
‘You feeling all right, Tosh?’ Owen frowned.
‘Yes. Why?’ She ushered Ianto away from the main computer and confidently took his place at the console.
‘You just seem a little. . . different, that’s all. I can’t put my finger on it.’
‘Well, if you don’t know what you’re trying to say, Dr Harper,’ Toshiko muttered, focused on the screen. ‘Then don’t say anything at all.’ She flashed him a short, hard smile. ‘It’s a waste of all our time.’
Owen’s mouth dropped slightly, and Gwen held back a short giggle. Even she had to admit what she was seeing on Owen’s face. This new attitude Toshiko Sato had adopted was kind of sexy. The only person that didn’t seem amused was Ianto, who looked from Toshiko to Owen and then back again.
‘Whatever you say, boss,’ Owen said, and then shivered suddenly. ‘That running’s given me the jitters. Anyone got any chocolate?’
‘No, but I’ll go and get some.’ Gwen’s stomach gurgled. She was feeling a little in need of a sugar rush herself.
Danny watched his dad for hours while he slept. He watched him until his arms were cramped from holding the heavy object to his eye, even though he’d been resting them on his knees ever since he’d slid down to the floor to watch his dad more comfortably. His face ached from squinting through the small lens. His body hummed from the heat coming from the kaleidoscope. Through it, his dad had slowly changed as the hours and minutes had ticked by. Not only had the frown lines disappeared but there was a small smile playing on his mouth, and Danny was pretty sure his dad’s thinning hair had thickened and the heavy paunch that hung over the rim of his cheap trousers had somehow diminished. Danny was fascinated by it. His heart thumped loudly in his chest. He couldn’t stop watching. His dad almost looked like a dad.
Eventually, as the day outside sank into the cool grip of the evening, his fingers cramped and he slowly lowered the instrument. His muscles screamed with the action, hot white pain shooting through his young joints. He blinked. How long had he been there? His eyes burned as they adjusted to the gloom. He pulled himself slowly to his feet, pins and needles cramping his feet. He shivered and took two careful steps forward. Was it his imagination or had his dad’s snore become softer? Did he really look just a little bit thinner? Danny rubbed his aching head. He was suddenly starving, but he didn’t know what for. The warmth that had flooded his thin system slipped away, and he trembled. He needed a jumper. And some food. And soon his dad would wake up.
He found a solitary two-finger chocolate bar in the back of the fridge behind the six-pack of cheap beers, and he ate it quickly before scurrying back to his room. He hid the kaleidoscope under his pillow and tried to concentrate on his homework, but his eyes kept shutting as they scanned the textbooks and his fingers were numb and cramped. His mind drifted. He just wanted to get the strange toy out and look through it again. Even under his jumper, goose bumps trickled acr
oss his arms.
After half an hour, his blood stilled as footsteps thudded heavily along the short corridor. His heart beat in time with them. A door closed. A few seconds later the toilet flushed. Danny’s eyes widened. The footsteps came closer and his bedroom door pushed open. A large shadow fell across the carpet. Danny swallowed.
His dad looked at him from the doorway and frowned, still looking half-asleep.
‘What you doing?’ The words came out in a grunt.
‘Homework,’ Danny whispered, softly. This was the worst time, when his dad had just woken up. This was the danger time. The wrong word could set him off. The chocolate curdled in his empty stomach. There was a long pause.
‘Good.’ His dad mumbled, before scratching his tummy and turning away. ‘Good.’
Danny sat frozen until he heard the front door click shut. He stared at the wall. Where had his dad gone? Back to the pub? Normally he’d yell or shout or growl before storming out, especially if he had a hangover. Normally Danny would be ‘just like his mother’ or ‘just another waste of space kid filling up the world’. Normally things were louder in the flat. His heart was only just returning to its own hesitant rhythm when the door clicked shut again. Barely ten minutes had passed.
‘Danny?’ His dad’s voice carried easily through the flat. The boy’s stomach turned to water. ‘Danny, come out here!’
For a second Danny just licked his lips nervously and then slowly pushed the unread homework aside. If he made his dad come in to get him it would be worse, whatever ‘it’ was going to be tonight. He was still sore from his hours crouched down in the sitting room and the tension that crept out from his heart and stomach made his muscles ache worse. He hoped his dad didn’t hit him tonight. Shouting he could manage, but his thin body wasn’t up for more bruises.
Something in the kitchen smelt good; hot and warm and appetising.
‘Hurry up,’ his dad grunted. ‘It’ll get cold.’
Two plates sat on the kitchen side, the brown paper parcels opened up to reveal thickly battered fish and a large portion of golden chips. Danny’s mouth watered.
‘Got you some peas, too.’ His dad nodded in the direction of a small polystyrene tub. ‘You don’t eat enough veg.’ Steve Dillard picked up his plate and headed towards the sitting room. ‘You coming?’
Danny nodded silently before picking up the heavy plate and the ketchup bottle. They ate quietly in front of the soaps on the telly until both their plates were cleared. Danny got up to take them into kitchen and his dad smiled.
‘Good lad.’
As he washed the dishes, he heard the click of his dad’s lighter and a small chuckle at something on the screen. The food had tasted good, but his small stomach wasn’t used to eating so much, and the grease and the nervous tension were combining to make him feel sick. What had happened to his dad? Why was he in such a good mood?
Back in his room, Danny fiddled with his homework for another hour or so and then crept into bed. The kaleidoscope was hard under his thin pillow. His skin itched to hold it again and feel the warmth that flooded him as he’d watched his dad sleep. He flicked out the small lamp and plunged the room into darkness. He slid one hand under the pillow and touched the strange toy. He liked the feel of it and couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it was like some kind of magic wand. He’d looked through it, and now his dad was acting different. Better different. Could that be it, or was it just crazy? He blinked the time away, his head in a whirl, until he heard the TV fall silent and his dad’s heavy tread in the corridor. A head peered round his door for a moment and Danny squeezed his eyes tight until the room was once more back in darkness.
He waited a full half-hour until he was pretty sure his dad was asleep, before pulling the kaleidoscope out from under his pillow and padding towards his dad’s bedroom and pushing the door open ever so slightly. His father’s large body was a mound under the duvet, but his arms and head were free from the covers and he breathed deeply and evenly. Danny crept inside, pressing himself against the long radiator. With aching arms, he lifted the object and peered through, willing it to do its magic some more. As he lost himself in the silvers and the glowing skin of his father, he sighed and welcomed the warmth.
‘Are those all yours?’ Ianto looked at the pile of chocolate wrappers scattered across the small area of workstation that Gwen was occupying. ‘I’m surprised you’re not the size of a house.’
He had a point, Gwen realised, as she surveyed the mess. She’d eaten at least five bars while she’d been trawling through the database without even really noticing. Her teeth and tongue felt coated in sweetness and she needed a coffee. She glanced over to where Owen sat reading the paper on the small sofa against the wall.
‘Looks like I’m not the only one.’ A small pile of ripped-up brightly coloured paper littered the floor by his feet. She was mildly surprised. She couldn’t even remember picking up that many bars when she’d run to the shop. It wasn’t like her at all.
‘Put the newspaper down, Owen.’ Toshiko didn’t even turn away from her computer screen. ‘I can always find you something to do.’
‘There is such a thing as a lunch break, you know.’ Owen peered up over the sports pages. ‘I think it’s the law. And given that it’s now gone eleven at night, I think I’m entitled to one, don’t you?’
‘There are no entitlements in Torchwood. If you’re looking for perks, go back to the NHS.’
Owen crumpled the paper up, but got to his feet. ‘I think this power trip’s gone to your head.’
Ianto frowned. ‘Maybe he’s got a point.’
‘What do you mean?’ Gwen scooped up the rubbish and tossed it into the small bin under the desk.
‘Doesn’t Tosh seem different to you? Way more confident than normal?’ Ianto sipped his coffee thoughtfully. ‘She never speaks to anyone like she has today. I haven’t even heard her say “please” since she got back.’ He looked at Gwen. ‘Did anything happen when you were out there before the alien technology was stolen?’
Gwen shrugged. ‘No, not really. We got to the estate and found the pawnbroker’s shop. I had a play with the thing though. Just looked through it for a few seconds, and then Owen did the same. We paid for it and left and then the kids ran through us and stole it.’
‘You and Owen looked through it?’
Gwen nodded.
‘What did you look at?’
‘Tosh.’ She frowned and looked over at Toshiko. ‘We both looked at Tosh. . .’
‘And now she’s different,’ Ianto muttered.
‘OK, I think I’ve found something that fits our description.’ Toshiko looked up. ‘Come and see.’
On the large screen an object rotated. It was almost identical to the one they’d seen at the shop, cylindrical in shape and with one clear end and one blackened.
‘It’s a Rehabilitator.’
‘A what?’ Owen peered in.
Toshiko clicked another button and quickly scanned the information. ‘Jack wrote a report on one of them, back in the nineties. Apparently, there are quite a few of them scattered across the galaxy. They’re the relics of an old alien civilisation that used them to maintain civil harmony. They were found by another humanoid race who colonised this dead planet and then they found the devices had peculiar properties and installed them in prisons. If a person is viewed through one, they become the ideal version of themselves according to the viewer’s concept of ideal. For a transition to be completely effective the candidate must be viewed for several hours, and then they emerge a newer, better person.’
‘Sounds a little too good to be true.’ Gwen raised an eyebrow.
‘And you’d be right. It was. The whole society was sent into disarray when three of the Rehabilitators were stolen and used by some sort of terrorist group to turn ordinary law-abiding citizens into killers and assassins. They fell out of use after that and, other than a few turning up here and there, there’s nothing more to tell about them.’
‘What
’s that box thing?’ Ianto pointed at a second image in the corner of the screen.
‘That’s the viewing box. The alloy the machine is made out of emits tiny particles into the skin when pressed into it like you would do if you held it to the soft tissue around your eye. They create a pleasant but highly addictive sensation. When the Rehabilitator is placed inside, it creates a very thin but dense barrier between the person and the object. Close enough for the device to be activated by the proximity of the eye, but totally prevents contact with the skin.’
‘Well, that explains a lot of things.’ Ianto folded his arms.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think I get his point.’ Gwen looked at Toshiko. ‘He tried to make it a minute ago. Tosh, you’ve been really different since we found that device earlier. It must be because me and Owen both looked at you through it.’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous.’ Toshiko’s eyes seemed less certain than her voice. ‘You only looked through it for a couple of seconds.’
‘I know. But we still did it. And you’re still different.’
‘And I’m still craving something,’ Owen added. ‘Even after all that chocolate.’
Gwen knew what he meant. There was just the tiniest itch under her skin and she couldn’t figure out how to scratch it.
The image on the screen changed, one window closing as the computers prioritised what the team needed to see. Toshiko smiled. ‘There you go. We’ve got another energy burst on the estate. Same as before. She looked triumphantly at Ianto. ‘I told you we’d find it again soon enough. Sometimes you’re so anal.’ She laughed a little at her own joke and then led the way to the lift.
Consequences Page 7