Lifespan of Starlight

by Kalkipsakis, Thalia

  ‘It’s okay, Scout. Just jump first. We can talk later, okay?’ He says it with kindness, but it somehow makes me feel young. Silly. As if I’m dumb to have thought that our kiss meant something.

  So I push my lips together and lift my head. Trying to show that I’m okay about it all. I can be cool about these things too. With legs crossed I take my place beside him, the whiteboard between us. ‘One minute?’

  His eyes lower. ‘One minute.’

  I draw in some air and shut out the room. My focus is all about getting to the other side of this skip. Maybe it will be good for us, a way of connecting again.

  It’s peaceful inside the tunnel, the absence of all worries.

  When I pull out, my breathing comes fast. I’ll never grow tired of that rush. Only a minute has passed and yet we’ve entered a whole new time.

  Mason’s not back and a change of atmosphere hits me straight away. I’m not sure how I pick it up but there’s a clear difference between then and now. I catch a whiff of honeysuckle in the air that I’m sure wasn’t there before.

  When the seconds continue past and Mason still hasn’t returned I peek over the screen to find nothing there, not even clothes.

  My heart skips hard, faster now as I fumble beneath me for my clothes, leaving the blanket untouched. None of this feels right.

  If something went wrong with Mason …

  Underwear, shorts and singlet on. My shirt isn’t here. This is so not right. I’m crawling in a desperate circle when I sense movement from behind the coffee table.

  ‘Looking for this?’ A figure stands from behind the comscreen.

  It’s Boc, holding my shirt. From the hardness in his face, I see in an instant.

  He knows what he’s holding, hidden in a pocket seam.

  Beside him is Mason. In the seconds it takes him to stand and turn to me, I’m hit with a slap of truth.

  Mason’s been here all along. He let me skip on my own so they could watch what happened on the grid.

  They know.

  IT’S BOC WHO says it. ‘You’re not chipped, are you? It’s hidden in your shirt.’

  My head shakes, but no words come. What can I say? They would have watched me disappear while the chip stayed in full view on the grid.

  Mason steps from behind the comscreen and stops beside me. One hand rests against my shoulder blade before falling away. ‘You were born before they started chipping babies, way back in the 2020s. That’s why it’s not in your wrist.’ He pauses and gestures towards Boc. ‘Tell him, Scout.’

  When Mason turns back to me it’s with such certainty, such trust that my heart lifts and wedges in my throat. He’s waiting for me to say that all is okay, what happened between us was real, I’m still the person he thought I was.

  But, of course, I can’t.

  It’s hard to even meet his gaze and, strangely, Boc is the one I turn to now, maybe because he has already guessed the truth. He’s watching me calmly, patiently. But I see victory there too.

  Boc’s eyebrows lift in question, but all I can do is shake my head. Please don’t make me say it.

  ‘Admit it. You’re illegal,’ says Boc.

  His eyes track across to Mason and narrow in a way that makes me think they’ve been arguing about this. But somehow that’s even worse: Mason would have been defending stuff that doesn’t add up because that was easier for him to contemplate than the idea of me being illegal.

  ‘Scout?’ Mason whispers.

  I can’t even look at him. What could I say to make any of this okay?

  All I can think is that the reason they were able to find me in the first place is in Boc’s hand. And that it’s also the only way the police would be able to track me now.

  And that gives me an idea.

  A single wipe of my palms against the sides of my jeans, and I make a dash for the door.

  Boc’s closer than me and reacts with crocodile speed, blocking my way. His chest is pushed forwards, filling the space about him. No you don’t.

  I spin back to Mason for help, but this time his face shadows and he turns away.

  No wonder. Trying to escape was as good as admitting who I am. Boc crosses his arms and I realise there’s no way out. The answer is there, on the grid, and hidden in the shirt in his hand. Nothing I can say would explain any of this.

  Nothing except the truth.

  ‘I found a woman at Footscray Park.’ My voice is weak but I push through, and keep going. Just keep going. ‘It was the night she returned from the two-year jump. She was sick … dying. I wanted to go for help, but she stopped me.’ A pause. ‘I was with her when she died.’

  I’m looking at Boc but my attention is on Mason as I speak, sensing his reaction as he realises where this is going, feeling the space between us grow as he steps back behind the comscreen.

  When I’ve finished telling the whole story, Boc says, ‘So … you never knew how to time skip? You learnt …’

  ‘… because of you.’ But of course, I’m speaking to Mason. And now that it’s out, a wave of frustration comes behind, rising as hot tears that I wipe with my palm.

  In the silence that follows, I find some small hope and slowly lift my eyes to Mason. He’s staring at the space just in front of me, as if trying to make sense of my words, searching for a way to reconcile them with who he thought I was.

  Without looking at me, he moves towards Boc and mutters something I don’t catch, their heads bowed together. I don’t have to hear it to know what they must be talking about. They have decisions to make: what to do about all this; whether to turn me in.

  It’s enough to absorb their attention, just for a moment. So I take my chances, making for the door to the main house and doing a manual override as I hear a cry of surprise from Boc behind me. The catch disengages as I hear the end of Mason’s reply. ‘… her go.’

  In seconds I’m up the stairs and out the front door, headed straight for my bike. I’m barely in the seat before I’m pedalling down the driveway.

  Leaving the chip behind.

  * * *

  The city streets blur with tears.

  I wipe them with the back of my hand only to find that I’m also blinded by rage. It grows with each push of a pedal. How could I be so stupid? I was trying so hard to prove I knew how to time skip that I didn’t think what the chip not being in my wrist could mean to anyone watching on the grid.

  And now, everything’s lost: my chance at school, a normal life. Food rations. Mason.

  Can’t think about Mason. My head fills with other losses. Kessa won’t be able to message me anymore. And after all that she’s risked for me, all that she’s gone without, how am I going to tell Mum?

  Mum.

  I’m already halfway home when I realise my mistake. Still not thinking straight. I skid to a stop, turning back the way I came to take the Flemington path and soon I’m pedalling hard for the city, clear about where I have to be.

  Use your head, Scout. There’s no time to curl up and cry. Now more than ever I have to think my way out. I was speeding towards a place to hide, but I’m not the one who’s in danger.

  I’m already off-grid. I could survive on the water from my underground spring, maybe try growing food again to trade with illegals beyond the city limits. But even if I escape, the history map of that chip will always lead to our room. The minute I brought it home, I put her at risk of being caught. The one in danger is Mum.

  I think about messaging her with the compad but decide against it. Anything like that could be intercepted and read. By Mason and Boc. Definitely the police. My only advantage is keeping my next move off-grid.

  When I make it to her work building I stash the bike but of course the doors won’t open fo
r me anymore. To the system I’m invisible again. It’s such familiar territory that I fall back onto my old tricks like pulling on a worn old coat. I used to use them just to get by, now I need them to survive.

  Patience. That’s my way to make things happen. For twenty minutes I bide my time until I’m wandering nonchalantly past the entrance at the same time a delivery drone shows up and we just happen to go through the double doors together. I make it to reception in its wake then turn for the stairwell. I’m ready for a manual override but when I test the door I find it unlocked, swinging free with barely a push. Must be the fire escape, too.

  She doesn’t like me coming to work but I’ve done this before, turning up when I was so bored that Mum telling me off was a reasonable way to fill the day.

  I climb two steps at a time, coming out again on the sixth floor, forgetting for a moment which way to turn and spinning a full circle before I remember.

  She’s alone in her office, tapping at the comscreen. I slide the door shut as soon as I’m through, glad that her clients need privacy because now, more than ever, we do too.

  ‘Coutlyn?’ Annoyance is not far away, until she sees the state I’m in.

  Mum is already with me as I crumble, still coming to understand what I’ve done. I thought it was my risk to take; didn’t think about the risk for her.

  ‘What happened?’ She holds my shoulders, crouching beneath my bowed head. I’m too ashamed to say it but I have to because the police might be coming for her. ‘Something’s happened?’

  I nod through the tears, but there’s no time for crying. ‘They … they know. They have the –’

  She cups her hand over my mouth. ‘Shh. Don’t say it.’

  Mum leads me to a chair so that we’re face to face but when she goes to lean away I grab her wrist. ‘You have to dig it out. It’s the only way.’ It’s the only way I can keep her safe.

  ‘No.’

  ‘We could live with the illegals, I could get water for us.’

  ‘Coutlyn.’ She untangles her hand from my grasp. ‘No.’

  ‘The grid is going to lead them to our room … to you. You have to dig it out.’

  ‘I said no.’ It’s sharper this time. Harder. She takes a breath. ‘Tell me what happened. Quietly.’

  At that, the tears slow. I’m suddenly numb inside.

  ‘Mason and Boc,’ I begin carefully because it’s hard even to say the names. ‘They know I’m illegal. They know I stole a chip.’ The first would simply have me transported out of the city, but the second is way worse.

  ‘And they’re going to the police?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Even now that he knows the truth I can’t believe Mason would do that to me. But Boc is another matter.

  Mum glances at my singlet top, just briefly but long enough for me to see the way I’m dressed through her eyes. Normally I wouldn’t go out like this; I’d throw a shirt on too. I twist away from her in the chair, arms shielding my stomach. It’s not what she’s thinking. Although in some ways, it is.

  Mum leans back, closing her eyes as she rubs her temples. ‘So they have the chip.’

  I pull out the compad, hack into the grid and zoom in to Mason’s house. I’ve never done this in front of Mum before but she leans forwards to watch without speaking.

  There’s no-one in Mason’s garage but when I pull up to the rest of the house I find two dots in Mason’s room. Him and Boc, I think at first. Then I recognise only one is tagged from when they followed me, and my breath catches. My shirt. He must have taken it up to his room.

  I have to clear the lump in my throat when I see that, although I’m not sure if it’s with hope or because of what I’ve lost.

  Mason’s not the one who most scares me, though, so I track back to when I was last at the garage, find Boc and follow where he went since I left. He stayed with Mason for about half an hour, and then went home.

  ‘No contact with the police, from what I can find,’ I say, scanning quickly through their recent activity in another window. But for how long?

  ‘Okay. Let me think.’ Mum stands and tests the lock on the door before turning my way. ‘So we don’t know for sure that they’ll say anything.’

  I shake my head, more at the frustration than agreement. ‘But if they do –’

  ‘Then we’ll deal with it.’ A pause. ‘I could have run away to live with illegals once before,’ she says evenly. ‘But I’ve chosen a different path. I’m not living without a chip unless I have to. Now more than ever we’re going to need the rations, the credits. Okay?’

  No. Not okay at all. ‘So … what? We just wait for them to come and arrest you?’

  ‘No. We wait and make plans. We use our heads.’ She drags her chair closer to mine and sits, our knees almost touching. ‘But most of all, we don’t do anything stupid.’

  * * *

  It’s late by the time we leave her office, walking side by side through the entrance doors so it’s not obvious she’s the one who triggered it open. It’s such familiar territory that there’s no need to talk about it.

  Mum catches the train home just like always but of course I ride my bike, stopping every fifteen minutes to check her progress on the grid, making sure she’s still travelling in the right direction, towards home.

  We spent the past two hours thinking our way ahead of the police, sorting out our stories, playing around with the what-ifs. Places to hide. A meeting place in case we’re separated.

  If the police investigate, there’s a lot they won’t understand. The history map of the chip is going to confuse them no end, but we can use that to distance Mum from all this. I am an illegal who was born outside the city limits, so our story goes. Mum found me living at the park and offered me a place to sleep. There’s no proof that she knew the chip was stolen and no proof that I was living with her before the chip showed up. The fact that she’s a social worker fits in perfectly, unless they’re smart enough to run DNA tests. Maybe she’ll get away with a slap on the wrist, I’ve begun to hope.

  Maybe I’m the one who’s most in danger after all.

  I could get out of the city for a while, until we know whether Mason and Boc will turn me in, but I’m not leaving Mum alone.

  And anyway, I’m coming to realise that I might have a fighting chance if they find me, even without all of the plans I’ve made with Mum. Because I can be here, and then not.

  Time skipping might help me escape.

  MUM’S HOME BEFORE me, of course, and two potatoes are already peeled and bubbling in a pot. We work in silence, naturally cutting back the portion sizes to only what’s needed. Neither of us is hungry, anyway.

  We watch a sitcom without taking any of it in, grateful that the movement and sound on the screen make up for our silence. Even though it’s late, I doubt either of us will sleep.

  It’s a bit after eleven when Mum mutes the comscreen and I hear the front door engage. No idea how she picked that up. In silence we wait, listening for clues. Alistair normally comes home around now, but what if it’s not him?

  A shadow passes our door; neither of us breathes as we watch.

  It’s only when we hear Alistair’s door engage that we exhale. No-one has come for us. Not yet.

  Mum’s eyes travel back to the comscreen, drawn by the flickering lights. She doesn’t seem to have noticed that we can’t hear what’s being said.

  I can’t help imagining what would be happening now if that wasn’t Alistair who just walked in. What if it was the police?

  The program ends and Mum shifts in her seat, tired but nowhere near bed.

  I shuffle forwards so that I’m perched on the edge of the armchair, and turn to face her. ‘Listen, there’s something else that yo
u need to know.’

  She sighs, almost as if she was expecting this.

  As I search for the right words, she tilts her head in a way that suggests she thinks I’m going to talk about Mason; how I came to lose my shirt. Maybe that’s why I need to tell her. But that’s not the only reason.

  I’ve decided that she needs to know what’s going on. She needs to know what I can do in case I need to do it in a hurry. Better for her to hear it from me now than to see something she doesn’t understand later, in the heat of the moment.

  ‘So. This is going to be a lot to take in. Just listen, okay? Hear me out.’ A flick to switch the comscreen over, then navigate to the grid. I’m not sure if there’s any need for a smokescreen, but I make sure it’s been triggered. I’ve made a big enough mistake already, the worst thing I could do is add to the list.

  ‘This is how they worked me out.’ I bring up Mason at his house and go quiet while I check for any police contact. None.

  I keep going. ‘So that’s Mason during the blackout last week.’ I point. ‘And that’s … me. At least … the chip.’ Her head tilts enough for me to continue. ‘So then … around seven …’

  I don’t try to find words; just show her the moment when Mason disappeared.

  All she does is drop her chin, still listening, because of course she could never predict what she’s about to hear.

  ‘So my chip stayed behind because it’s not in my wrist.’ As I turn back to the grid my eyes fix onto the dot left behind while I time skipped. I’m not ready for the way it hits me: so many emotions, so raw, so close. I can almost smell the whiff of honeysuckle. The trust that grew from skipping together courses through me, the learning and growing …

  My eyes close against the memory. Regret is a luxury I can’t afford.

  It’s only when I turn to Mum that I’m able to focus again. ‘Maybe I should show you,’ I mumble.

  ‘All right.’ She’s growing impatient, I can tell.

  I slip off the armchair and cross my legs on the floor. ‘So this is about the way time works. It’s hard to explain, but … once you learn how we exist within time, you can …’ I take a breath. Just say it. ‘Travel through it.’