by Adara Quick
Something had shaken loose in Antrim after that. She became more fearful, less secure without the solid ground her parents had provided. These days, she lived with her uncle, Brandan O’Connor. He wasn’t a man who took to children very easily, and Antrim thought of her friends as the only real family she had left. She clung to Deirdre, feeling a strength there that she thought she lacked. The moments spent on her board were her only unburdened ones.
Antrim’s back was starting to hurt from leaning against the hard concrete for so long. She checked the time on her wristband device and saw that a message was coming through. It made a gentle ping and she he hit the receive button to start the message. Like a blue neon tickertape, the scrolling holographic letters moved from right to left, giving her about two seconds to read each word.
The message read, “I won’t be coming to school today. Need to talk soon. -D.”
Antrim sighed and pulled her expandable board out of her bag. Grabbing hold of the two edges, she enlarged it into an hourglass shape and popped out the anti-friction nodes. Then she let it drop to the floor where it hovered a few inches off the concrete. Antrim hopped onto her favorite ride and began to skate toward the lift that would take her to the school. Sailing past the air shaft, she took one peek down the channel that ran to the bottom of the city. She couldn’t see much between the spinning fan blades but still she looked. Whispering, she said, “What happened to you down there, Ma and Da?”
Deirdre came out of her call with Flynn and lay for a moment in her top bunk. Turning over in bed, she still felt heavy from sleep and fatigue. Images of Flynn’s ‘Mare sentence and the argument with her father floated through her head. Yesterday had not been her best day. There has to be a way to help him.
Going to school after everything that had happened felt like too much. She activated her wristband and sent a ticker to Antrim that she wouldn’t be meeting up with her. Then she rolled out of bed and dressed for the day without waking Breck. Tiptoeing to the bedroom door, she pulled it open and slipped out into the common room. To her surprise, she found both of her parents standing there, waiting. Deirdre stopped short, wondering why they weren’t at the Academy already.
Siobhan walked over and put her arm around Deirdre’s shoulders. She said, “Deirdre, the Ministry of Dream Justice has requested an interview with you this morning. You won’t be going to school today.”
“Ma, is this about what happened with me and Flynn yesterday?” she exclaimed. “I’ve already gone to detention and said I was sorry to the headmistress.”
Siobhan shook her head. “No, daughter. It’s about Red Oak. There’s an investigation going on right now into the work Maeve was doing. Because she ran at the ritual.”
Sean added, “Maeve helped your mother build Red Oak, and so your mother and I were interviewed yesterday at the Academy. Now the Ministry is interviewing everyone who has downloaded that dream. This morning we received a ticker that you will be interviewed next. You will go and answer their questions as honestly as you can. Do you understand what is being asked of you?”
Deirdre stepped backwards, feeling a little sick to her stomach. This meant she had made it onto the Ministry’s list. But she wouldn’t be vulnerable in front of her father, or show him that she was afraid. She looked hard at Sean and said, “So, that’s it? The Ministry drops you a note and you just hand over your daughter on a plate? I’m not going.”
Sean shook his head angrily and replied, “Deirdre, you don’t have a choice. An interview has been scheduled with the Minister’s Second and you must comply.”
Deirdre turned toward her mother and said, “What about you, Ma? Are you just going to let Da take me away? He’s worse than a Dream Drone. He’s perfectly awake, yet he helps them in any way he can.”
Siobhan ran her hands through her dark hair. “Daughter. Your father is right. Don’t be so hard on him. You have to go.”
Deirdre’s hands tightened and her nails bit into her palms. She jerked her head up and said, “Ma! Are you joking? Do I have to remind you what happened the last time I was interviewed by the Ministry? You both told me to tell the truth. Now Zinna...well, she won’t ever be the same since her dreamlock and what happened in that ‘Mare. And I put her there.”
Siobhan said, “Deirdre, she was the one hiding contraband. Not you. Why should you be punished or take her place? You’re too important.”
“I’m not important. And I could have said something else. Something to throw them off! And now you want me to face them all over again. I won’t go. Ma, why won’t you ever stand up to Father? If ever there was a time to stand in between me and him, it’s now. But you’re too weak, aren’t you?”
Siobhan lowered her eyes to the floor and said, “We love you, Deirdre.”
But Deirdre couldn’t stop; she was too angry. Pointing at her mother she said, “No, you don’t. Or you wouldn’t let this happen. I don’t ever want to be like you, Ma.”
Siobhan turned away and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Sean, however, was not as easily cowed as his wife. He yelled with all the force of a Master Maker, “Deirdre, that’s enough!” She was startled into silence, and he continued, “You will show your mother respect, and not speak to her that way. You will also show the interviewer respect, and if I hear otherwise you will regret it. We are leaving, now!”
Breck poked her head out of the bedroom, hair still tousled from dream. She asked, “What is going on out here?”
Deirdre and Sean ignored her and left their unit in a fragile silence. They walked to the lift, both of them just staring straight ahead. Deirdre felt betrayed on all sides; she wondered if she had the two worst parents in the city. They entered the lift on Level 28 and Sean pressed the button that would take them up to Level 1. It was a long, uncomfortable ride up to the section of the city that housed the administrative arm of Dream Justice. The Dream Justice building extended above ground and provided an operational base for the Minister and his top administrators. Deirdre’s interview was to take place in one of the below ground rooms - she didn’t have access privileges for the surface, and so they had to accommodate her restrictions.
They stepped off the lift on the first level of the city to the muted sound of doors sliding open. Deirdre could smell a hint of the sea drifting through the hallways and hungered to know what Topside was really like. But I won’t find out today. She followed her father through the twists and turns of the brightly lit hallways. She was a little surprised that he knew the section so well; she thought he spent most of his time over at the Academy with the other Makers.
The section where the interview was to be held was filled with Dream Drones who guarded every identity checkpoint. Over and over she heard, “Sean Callaghan. Deirdre Callaghan. Identity Confirmed,” as they passed through each pair of metal pillars flanking every major doorway. Watchful red gargoyles, they allowed no one to pass without consent. Deirdre had been through plenty of scanners before, but never so many on one level. She knew that the scanners transmitted her father’s identity from his weaver profile to the cloud, where the location was checked against his access privileges. Her own identity was verified through her earbud device.
Finally, they passed through the last checkpoint where two Dream Drones waited to escort them to the interview room. Deirdre’s palms were starting to feel a little slippery from nerves. They reached the doorway to room 1402, and her father prepared to enter with her. But the Drone extended his arm against Sean’s chest and refused him admittance. He said, “Maker Callaghan. You will need to wait here. Only interviewees beyond this point.”
Sean nodded curtly and stepped back. Deirdre felt nothing but contempt for him. Good morning, Dream Drone. I’m here to hand over my oldest daughter. Can I lick your boots now? The Drone put his hand on the back of Deirdre’s elbow, and angled her forward into the interview room. He wasn’t just trying to direct her where to go, he was also making sure that she didn’t turn around and make a run for it
. Deirdre let herself be escorted. What can they need to ask me that is so bloody important? When the door shut behind her, blocking the only exit, she felt a lot less sure of herself.
The room was empty except for a man, two chairs, and a table. The man was seated in one of the chairs, and the other chair waited empty for her. The Second was dressed all in red and she remembered him from Maeve’s ritual, a large man in a crisp uniform. Her eyes were drawn to the spider insignia near the collar and she swallowed hard. She hated that that image and dreaded being fitted for a weaver. She sat down in the chair and tried to keep her breath even.
The man in front of her sat quietly, studying a holographic display that had been projected onto the surface of the table. A few minutes went by with him ignoring her completely. Am I in the right room? Then he finally used the touch function and brought up a file with her name on it. He said, “This interview is being recorded. State your name for the archive record.”
Deirdre cleared her throat and replied, “Deirdre Callaghan.”
Briskly, he replied, “Thank you. My name is Dylan O’Brian, and you will address me as Mr. O’Brian. I function as the Minister’s Second-in-command. Do you understand what that means?” He finally looked her in the eye.
Deirdre replied, “It means that the subject of this interview is important.”
With a sly smile, Dylan replied, “Very good. You’re the daughter of two Makers, I expected you to be intelligent. Now, if you want things to go well for you, please continue to be intelligent. Answer my questions exactly as I pose them to you. Do you understand?”
As emotionlessly as possible, Deirdre replied, “Yes, I understand.”
Looking back down at his data file, Dylan continued, “Good. Now I see from the records on the cloud that you accessed the dream called Red Oak on 9.12.77 and 9.13.77. You spent a total time in that dream of 20 hours of lived experience. This is an inquiry about Red Oak. Tell me what you experienced in dream.”
Deirdre hesitated for a moment, remembering Maeve’s words. Tell no one of Roenin. She didn’t know if Dylan knew about the black warrior, and it would be a risk not to name him. But Maeve had spent the last moments of her life giving her that warning. So she said, “Yes, I downloaded Red Oak on those occasions. I walked through an oak tree forest in autumn. And there was a castle where a woman lived.”
Dylan took notes with a stylus as she spoke. Looking back up, he prodded her, “Yes. Anything else?”
Still Deirdre felt that she had to protect the secret of Roenin, whatever it was. She said, “Oh yes. I forgot. There was a fighter, dressed in grey, practicing with his staff.”
Dylan paused and just stared at her. Deirdre looked him straight in the eye and again kept her face as empty as a still pond. He’s trying to make me reveal myself in some misstep. But it’s not going to work.
Finally, Dylan broke eye contact. He said, “All right, Miss Callaghan. Thank you for your cooperation. Your description of Red Oak matches that of other beta dreamers who have tested that content: a warrior, a castle, a woman, and a forest. Access to Red Oak will be terminated from this point forward. I look forward to the day of your Selection and learning how you will serve the Ministry. You are excused. The Ministry provides.” Then he put his stylus in his chest pocket, logged out of the data file on the cloud, and promptly left the room.
Deirdre remained seated for a moment, feeling a little dizzy. She had eluded one of the top administrators of Dream Justice, and she felt a little drunk on the rush of it. She placed her sweaty palms flat on the table to steady herself. She hadn’t told him about Roenin. And none of the other dreamers had seen him. But how is that possible? Sure, you can explore a dream. But the content - the main characters and the world - don’t change from dreamer to dreamer. The Makers set up the rules of the world from the beginning. Could Maeve have told all of the beta testers not to mention him? Unlikely. She barely managed to tell me in her last moments. So that means Roenin only appeared to me, which is so strange. I talked with him. Watched him fight. We took the castle. It doesn’t make any sense.
Deirdre rubbed her eyes. She wasn’t going to get any answers sitting in Dream Justice. He was so real. Maybe the most intense character I have ever met in dream. Maeve and mother, what have you built? Well, it doesn’t matter now. Whatever it is, will have to wait. Outside in the hallway, her father was waiting. He waved her over and together they walked out of Dream Justice.
“You did well in there, daughter,” he said. “Dylan was impressed with how you carried yourself.”
“Thanks, Da,” she replied. “I told him everything I know.”
Breck hurried from school as fast as the excess of people in the hallways would allow. She had an outing planned with her mother that she couldn’t miss. Today Siobhan would go to the Spinners and retrieve her Offering jumper. Breck had insisted on going, and Siobhan had promised. So she used her slim frame to squeeze between the people in the hallways, darting home as fast as possible.
She smiled happily to herself as she rounded the last corner to her home and burst through the doorway. “Ma, I’m back,” she exclaimed, loud enough to wake Tír na nÓg.
“There you are,” said her mother, peering from around her Sequencer. “Just one moment. I need to finish this bit.”
“Ma! You’ve been working on that forever. C’mere! We have to go.”
Siobhan looked at her youngest from top to toe and said, “My, my. Someone is excited to go and see the Spinners.” As Breck pouted, Siobhan made one last adjustment.
Not letting up, Breck pointed to her mother and said, “I’m here on time. You promised we would go today, and you promised I could come.”
Siobhan stood, arranged her clothing, and pushed her long black hair away from her face. Once a glorious mane, it was now brittle and showing streaks of grey. “When you get a little older, Breck, you will understand better why those in their fourth decade aren’t excited to visit the Spinners.” She sighed and said, “Alright, let’s be on our way.” Siobhan shooed Breck out the door and locked the sliding entrance to their unit.
As they walked to the lift, Breck said, “Ma, everyone at school says that the Spinners know things, like what your Selection will be and what life will be like in the Tír na nÓg.”
Siobhan adjusted the sleeves on her robe and said, “Yes, daughter, those are the stories that are whispered in the hallways of our city.”
“Then I’m going to ask ours all kinds of questions. Even if she does smell a little like the ruined.”
Siobhan placed her arm on her daughter’s shoulder. “Though she is an older woman, we must show respect. I am even older than her, remember? I will tell you what I have heard.” Siobhan leaned in with a conspiratorial look in her eyes. In a softer voice, she said, “The Spinners never take husbands and never have children, but their apprentices are like their daughters. It is said that Spinners know yarns and fibers so intimately, that they can look at a strand of your hair and tell you your future.”
And with that last word almost a whisper, Siobhan reached quietly around her daughter’s waist and surprised her with a hail of tickles. But their laughter stopped short as a Dream Drone turned the corner. Laughter was not something that you heard often in Skellig City. Siobhan tucked her hands inside her orange Maker robes and nodded to the Drone. Breck looked down at the floor and fell into step slightly behind her mother.
The Drone nodded back, “Maker.”
“The Ministry provides,” responded Siobhan, and they hurried onward before the Drone decided that they were worth more attention. Both mother and daughter were thankful when the boot steps of the Drone faded behind them.
Siobhan said, “Of course none of it is true. What is said about the Spinners and the future.”
Breck said, “Well, I’m going to ask ours anyway.”
The remainder of the trip was silent. Breck busied herself following the patterns in the walkway floor as they made their way to the level that housed the Spinners. Ov
er the years, the concrete floors had been painted in various shades of grey, some warm and some cool. The center of the walkway had been worn down to bare concrete by the many thousands of steps that were taken every day by the residents of the city. But at the edges, the different paint colors formed a patchwork of worn paint chips. Under years of abuse, the paint was hanging on by sheer force of will.
After taking the lift to Level 35, Siobhan and Breck arrived in the domain of the Spinners. The entrance to their section was marked by unusual textiles in fabulous colors which were not seen anywhere else in the city. A large burgundy tapestry of delicate workmanship hung in the center of the walkway, split down the middle for people to pass. Siobhan stepped through first and held the fabric apart for Breck. The space the Spinners created was like another world.
Passing along the hallway, they walked among more hanging tapestries, quilts, and knitted panels. Siobhan explained that it was a gallery of sorts where apprentices displayed their work for critique by the more experienced women. As they made their way deeper into the section, one of the apprentices, a girl of 18 years, approached. She was dressed in the winter-white floor-length tunic of the Spinners. Their dress symbolized their most important work: producing tunics of the same shade for every person who entered the cylinder. For everyone in Skellig City, white was the color of the dead.
“Greetings, Siobhan,” the girl said. “Your time approaches. I see that you are here for your ritual clothing. This way. I believe that Spinner Niamh finished your garment this week.” Beckoning, she led them onward through the labyrinth of hallways in which the Spinners made their home. Following quickly, Breck gaped at all of the beautifully colored fabrics that adorned the walls and floors.
When they reached the workspace for her mistress, the apprentice bowed her head and said, “Spinner Niamh, the Offering has arrived to speak with you.”
The room was filled with woven bags that held every color of yarn and thread that could be produced by the dyeing vats of Skellig City. It was a priceless amount of yarn, used only for the making of textile art by the Spinners. No livestock was kept in Skellig City, and new yarn was made by a careful process of taking apart old strands and spinning them into new yarn to be dyed and worked. The bags were lined up in order from red to blue; a rainbow of color stretched along the walls.