by Teri Terry
His eyes are anxious, worried. ‘I’m concerned about you, Luna. You mustn’t go to PareCo.’
‘I’m not, as I’ve just told you. But why? Hex is excited beyond belief; it’s meant to be the greatest thing ever, if you believe him. Or Sally. What’s wrong with it?’
‘I don’t know exactly. It just is. Wrong. People who go there don’t come back.’
‘Well, maybe that is because it’s so brilliant they never want to leave. You’d have to do better than that to put me off if I wanted to go. But I’m not going, anyhow.’
‘I’d be surprised if it was that easy to get out of.’
‘It’s been agreed. I’m staying put.’
He still looks worried.
‘What is this place, anyway?’ I look around me. Shifting, pulsing lights define the walls of a small square room. The bench we are sitting on feels solid, but again its dark shape is defined by pulsing silver.
He grins. ‘It’s my S’hack; I made it. It’s kind of like my panic room.’
‘Panic room?’
‘You know, like rich people have to hide out in if someone breaks into their house.’
I look around. ‘Not sure about your choice of décor. And the furnishings are a bit minimalistic. This bench is positively uncomfortable.’
‘Sorry, I don’t entertain much.’ He grins again, and suddenly the bench is soft, yielding. I stroke it with my hands: like warm velvet.
I tilt my head back, stare into his eyes. He smiles, shakes his head. ‘I’m trying to say goodbye, not hello. You should probably go.’
‘Sure. Just as I was getting comfortable.’
‘I’ll send a silver arrow to guide you back, and make another hatch above your Realtime hallway.’
Back in my bedroom I sneeze, and automatically raise my hand to my nose in this virtual place, even though no sneeze happened here. Gecko looks at me strangely. I’d been so distracted by all this that I’d almost stopped noticing my double existence.
‘How about I go the easy way, instead?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ll just unplug.’
He shakes his head. ‘You can’t do that when you’re in the void. You lose that connection here.’
‘Really? What if I’d stopped following your arrow, and got lost?’
‘That’d be bad. If you stare into the void too long you can lose your way. Lose yourself, and be lost from your body forever. Until your body dies, of course. A long time if it is on life support.’
The spine spiders are back. That could be a long time to wander, alone, in nothing. ‘Thanks for the warning!’
‘I figured you could handle it.’
I stare back at him, not sure whether to be angry at the risk he thought I took, or flattered that he figured it wasn’t a problem for me. Anyhow, he’s wrong. I still have the double awareness I always have when plugged in. I can unplug to leave here whenever I want.
But I won’t say goodbye. For reasons I’m not sure I want to look at too closely, I don’t want to. I can’t. ‘See you later, Gecko,’ I say, instead. I reach to unplug back in my room. I pause, uncertain, stare back at him. His eyes kind of hold mine, and it is hard to breathe. I do it: pull out of the neural net, just as he leans forward, brushes my cheek with his lips. He vanishes, but not before I see the startled look on his face.
I sit up in my bedroom.
All that happened – what he said, what I said – runs through my mind, and I’m left with one inescapable conclusion: I’m completely mental. Starting with rejecting that invitation when I thought it would make him appear, then going up that ladder when he didn’t.
And the virtual void? It should have been terrifying, but somehow, it wasn’t. It was more freaky, exciting. Of course I didn’t know then that if people lose their way, they could be stuck there, wandering in the vast darkness until their bodies die. Not that the usual rules seem to apply to me: I can still unplug when I want to from the void. I shake my head.
And, messed up by his own admission, does Gecko really think somebody killed Jezzamine, just because she could tell the Implant images weren’t real? Maybe all the horrible things that happened to him as a child colour how he sees the world. And now he’s hiding out so PareCo won’t take him to their Think Tank? When I was there, his eyes holding mine, it all seemed real. But now?
My cheek tingles, and I only half felt it – his lips brushing across my skin as I unplugged.
I shake my head, finally get into bed. My hair is still tied back, and I reach behind, pull at it. A silver clasp comes away in my hand. Did Gecko make it for me when my hair was whipping around in the void? I frown. Then how is it here, back in the real world? If it was virtual, it should vanish as soon as I leave that place.
This is all completely, totally, crazy.
I’m warm, happy, safe. I wriggle against Mummy’s shoulder, her long hair a blanket around me as she adjusts me higher on her hip, and climbs the ladder.
Through the hatch little lights dance around us, friendly whispers against the darkness. They swirl around Mummy in a silvery blur as she lowers me down, her hair whipping about her in the wind that goes every which way at once. She gestures impatiently and it is tied back like mine.
‘Playtime, Luna?’ she says, and laughs. She spreads her arms wide, and gathers silver sparkles together; she throws them at me, and I catch the ball of light in my hands.
‘What will it be today, little love?’ she asks, mischief in her eyes.
I laugh and throw it above us, turn the blackness into a night sky of stars. The full moon is so huge and close I could reach and touch it, and I do: jump into the sky and sit on the warm white disc. I pull it bigger and Mummy jumps up to sit next to me.
She wraps her arms tight around me. ‘You’re so special, Luna. Only you can do what you can do. That’s why I made you.’
I pull away from the cuddle so I can look at her eyes. They are bright in the darkness, pale grey shot with silver, and silver dances all around her eye in her skin. That is why I made her the stars.
Rat-a-tat-tat.
‘Luna?’ A voice is calling, and I stir, groggy, not wanting to leave the dream. Of Astra and me. We were in the virtual void? Did being there today bring on the dream – did we really go there together, or is it a trick of my imagination? And me, making the moon and the stars: that I definitely made up.
‘Luna?’ It’s Sally. She’s opened the door now, and the hall light floods my room. Her face is white.
I sit up in a rush. ‘What is it?’
‘I’m so sorry, Luna.’ And her face and her voice are sorry, genuinely so, and there is no one else here to make a performance worthwhile.
‘What? What’s happened?’
‘It’s your nanna. She…’ Her voice trails away, and she shakes her head.
Then I’m up and running down the hall; the door to Nanna’s room is open. The doctor is there, but he’s standing back, and Dad is there, too, and he’s holding her hand. Nanna’s hand.
‘What’s happened?’
Sally follows in behind. She puts an arm over my shoulders, and for once I don’t pull away. ‘She died in her sleep. The medic alarm woke me and brought the doctor, and I got your dad. He wanted a moment before we woke you.’
No. It can’t be. Can it? And I’m next to Dad, next to Nanna. Her face is calm, peaceful. Her eyes are closed.
‘She’s just asleep, isn’t she? Dad?’
He shakes his head.
20
There is a blur of days that lead to this one. People are talking, saying nice things. Not many people, though. Not many watch as the coffin goes into the back of the crematorium; friends she had years ago have long deserted. I’m touched that Melrose is here, her father also. This couldn’t do him any good if anyone not
ices.
After, Sally steers us away, back home. For once I appreciate how good she is at organising us. That she’s somehow even bossed Dad into staying in reality for so long.
Rachel from school visits, and I’m surprised: REs don’t get out much. And then I think about it some more, and I’m not surprised. People dying is kind of her thing – trying to make you feel there is a reason for it, or to make you feel better. It isn’t working, exactly, but it’s nice that she tries.
Religious beliefs are irrational by definition: not subject to proof. Freedom of religion is protected by NUN, but Religious Exemptions like Rachel are marginalised, their lives limited so they can’t infect others with their views, with the conflict and wars that always follow when religion dominates society. These are all things we’ve been taught, but sometimes it feels like Rachel has a secret, one I’d like to share. If it made this feel any better, it’d be worth it.
Something inside yearns. For what? For infinity: for things that go on and on, forever.
Late that night, I pull my hair up in the silver clip from the void. While I plug in I hope, hope, hope that the hatch will be there, that I can climb up.
In my hallway there is no invitation from Astra Remembered this time, but I look up, and there: silver is reaching across. It doesn’t start with an outline like before, more a stream of silver that rushes across to form a hatch. It opens, and a ladder drops down. I climb up, and step into nothingness.
There is no silver message from Gecko like before. The hatch vanishes, and I’m alone in the dark emptiness of the void. The twinkling blur of static lights rushes past in all directions; the strange wind is as before – at times fierce, at times gentle, changing direction. I lie down and stare upwards.
Rachel said she’d pray for Nanna’s soul. That life is fleeting, but her soul is forever. I sigh. I see life more as one of these bright lights, shooting in a brief flare across infinite space and darkness.
Rachel also said I should remember Nanna as she was, not the way her illness changed her. But it’s hard. For a long time she’s not been the woman who was everything to me – mother, father, friend – after Astra died. Dad was even more useless then than he is now. Astra’s death really derailed him to the point I’m not sure he even knew I existed. Nanna’s illness seemed to come so gradually, so bit by bit that it crept up on me without my noticing, until suddenly it was a giant, overwhelming thing. So when did it start, really? Were all her warnings to me about not letting anyone know how I was different, not getting an Implant, not telling anyone how plugging in made me sick – did that start before she was ill, or was it part of the delusions that came after? And how about her obsession with numbers – was that part of her illness, too?
And here I am. Plugged in, not sick. A few ANDs was all it would have taken to make me like everybody else. All the things I missed with friends, school. She was terrified about me taking the Test, but I did fine – nothing bad happened from taking it, did it?
But one thing I do know: even if it was part of her delusions, she always loved me. Whatever she did, she did because she thought she was keeping me safe, that she was protecting me. Even if the monsters were all in her mind, to her, they were real.
A particularly bright light rushes towards me. Without thinking I reach up, grab it in my hands. I cup them around it: it pulses silver inside. Goodbye, Nanna, I whisper, and throw it into the sky. It turns into a star. A falling star that streaks across the sky, then is gone.
Spine spiders creep across my back. Did I really just do that?
I’ve barely thought of that dream with my mother, with everything that followed when I woke from it. Is that what really drew me out here now? I close my eyes and try to put myself back, back. Into that feeling of joy, warmth, security. And playfulness, too. The lights: she gathered them together into her arms, threw them at me. When I released them they became what I wanted, like the star I just threw into the void.
I stand up. Feeling foolish, I hold my arms out wide like Astra did, and try to scoop the lights towards me. It doesn’t work.
I try to grab just one light in my hands like I did before. But now that I’m thinking about it, it isn’t working. Overactive imagination, that’s what I have. I probably drifted off and dreamed the whole thing.
The vast darkness and the lights whistling past are starting to creep me out. Time to unplug? But although I don’t really want to go back, I don’t want to be alone, either.
Where is Gecko? He said goodbye; is he really gone? He can’t be; he must have put the hatch and ladder there so I could get into the void. I wish for him, and as if he is reading my mind, a silver arrow appears at my feet.
I smile, follow along until it stops. A sheet of silver rushes across and solidifies, forming a door. I open it, and step through.
The square room is like the last time – darkness defined by silver pulses of light. But it is empty. No Gecko. I bite my lip in disappointment. Why’d he bring me here if he isn’t here himself? I’ve barely formed the thought when he appears next to me.
His eyes are wide in shock. ‘Luna? How’d you get here?’
‘I followed the arrow. Same as last time.’
‘What?’ He shakes his head. ‘I don’t understand. Though I was thinking of you. Did I lay a trace without doing it on purpose?’ He shakes his head. ‘If I did, I’m more addled than I thought. And how did you leave the last time you were here?’
‘No biggie. I just unplugged.’
‘That should be impossible. How’d you even still have connection to your body through the void?’
I shrug, uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know. I just do,’ I say, and then my mind skips back to what he said before. ‘Addled? What’s wrong?’
‘They found me.’
‘Who did?’
‘PareCo, of course. They’ve got me in a locked house prior to transport to Inaccessible Island. I can’t get out.’
‘What? But that’s illegal.’
He laughs: not a happy sound. ‘What planet do you live on? Don’t answer that. As you’re here, I’ve got something to tell you. It’s important.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘I found Danny.’
‘So he’s OK, then.’
‘No. He’s not. He died of STDS – Sudden Teenage Death Syndrome.’
‘What? Seriously?’ I stare at him in shock.
‘I’m afraid so. Somehow they must have worked out he could see through the Implant simulation.’
‘Wait a minute. You must be wrong. A girl died of STDS at my school last year: they only call it that when somebody spontaneously dies when they’re plugged in, and they don’t know why. So there is no discernible cause of death.’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘Usually. But this is PareCo we’re talking about. They could fake it. But that’s not all.’
I turn away, afraid to hear any more.
‘I looked into Jezzamine and Danny to see if they had anything in common, anything I could have missed. Hacked into shopping records, and there it was: both of them regularly bought ANDs.’
Danny I didn’t know well, but Jezzamine? She was a girl who did not like to be different; at least, not like that. She’d have hidden that secret to the grave. A sense of disquiet prickles inside: she did.
I shake my head. ‘But what has that got to with anything?’
‘I don’t know. It must be something about needing ANDs to plug in that affects how you perceive things with your Implant, and whether they can plant blocks to stop you from talking about it. Haven’t worked out what it is yet.’
‘But I haven’t got an Implant.’
‘Don’t get one, Luna. If you do – don’t let anyone know you use ANDs. Have you bought them on credit?’
‘No. Cash only, but—’
‘Just buy them
from different places, different times – don’t establish a pattern, right? Then hope they don’t find out.’
‘Who is this they? Why does it matter?’
‘Luna, listen to me. Your life could be in danger.’
I fight the tears, and the fear. Nanna, Jezzamine and Danny: three deaths in such a short time. Nanna whispers in my mind: Three are the triangles: mind, body, soul; past, present, future. But none of them has a future. Not any more.
I’m shaking my head, pulling away from his warm hand on my arm. I don’t want to hear what he is saying; I don’t want to even be here. A whole long list of too much to handle is crashing in on me.
And I run. Straight through the silver-etched wall of his room – it parts to let me through and out into the void. I hear a few shouts behind but they fade and vanish.
I run blindly. What is it with me? First Nanna has delusions; now Gecko? Maybe I really do bring out the crazy in people. He can’t be right; he can’t be. And he said that they found him, that they locked him up to force him to take that placement, but why would they do that? What would be the point of an uncooperative employee, anyhow?
I’m running so fast there is a streak of light around me – my legs, my arms – a silver blur.
Why am I running? There’s an easier way out of here. I stop. The silver lights are still all around me, almost like they are clinging to my skin. Now I’m the crazy one. I breathe in and out, try to calm the panic. Back in my bedroom I reach to unplug, and slip out of the neural net.
I sit up in the PIP in my dark room, heart still thudding as if I really had been running. Clothes sticking to my skin.
I get up, open the curtains, the window, and lean out and breathe deeply, trying to calm down. It’s a clear night. Silver traces from the stars above seem to cling to the air around me, the skin on my hands and arms. I pull back from the window and slam it shut.
Now I’m the one with delusions.
Wide awake, I wander downstairs. Put the kettle on. There is an elaborate bunch of white flowers in a vase on the kitchen table – lilies and roses. They weren’t here earlier, were they? Beautiful, but something about lilies leaves me cold, and the roses’ perfume hangs too heavy in this confined space. It catches in my throat. A card sticks out, unopened, and I look closer. It’s got my name on it?