Lifespan of Starlight

by Kalkipsakis, Thalia

  We’re quiet as we wait, Echo now standing at the fence with two fingers hooked in the wire above her head.

  A high level hum is the first clue that it’s approaching, followed by a series of flashes. Silver and white, with a blur of other colours. It all happened so fast that I didn’t see if Boc jumped or not but he’s not on the grid when I check.

  In silence, we watch. Speaking might somehow break the focus, jinx Boc out too early. Or something like that. Echo’s hand drops to wipe her palm on the side of her shorts then she hooks her fingers into the wire again.

  Forever. That’s how long the freight train takes, little more than a pulsing hum and a flash of light and dark.

  Then, as suddenly as it arrived, the last carriage shoots out of sight and it’s gone. All is silent.

  Holding my breath, I check the grid to make sure that the dot I tagged for Boc still hasn’t returned.

  We’re shifting cautiously when a lone figure appears on the tracks, his skin like dark silk in the sunlight. The whoop of victory says it all. ‘Woohoooo!’

  The other three let out cheers and applaud Boc as he pulls on his clothes and makes his way up the slope. Echo drops her head back while Mason raises his eyebrows at me. ‘See?’

  I shake my head, relieved, but not ready to celebrate.

  Already Boc’s climbing the fence to drop down on our side. He’s breathing hard, full of nervous energy.

  ‘That was freaking incredible.’ Boc strides the length of the fence, his focus on the railway lines. ‘You can feel these vibrations in the tracks so you know to be ready. But man, it was intense.’

  ‘You knew how long to stay away?’ I ask.

  A pause, as if he’s only now remembered that I’m here. ‘Course.’ A smug grin. ‘Piece of piss.’

  Now that I’ve seen him in action, it makes sense that Boc’s skipping so easily. Scaling a city building, steering downhill on a mountain bike, jumping into the unknown: they’re all about guts, really. No wonder he’s able to travel so far. He’s fearless.

  ‘Who’s next?’ Boc clicks his tongue, tracking from one to the other until he stops on me. ‘Scout?’

  ‘Nah, mate, I’ll go.’ Mason moves forwards.

  ‘I’m ready,’ says Echo.

  Shoulders square, I lift myself tall. ‘I’ll go.’

  Mason steps beside me, his fingers cupping my elbow. ‘No, Scout, wait until you’ve had more time to prepare.’

  ‘I’m the only one who hasn’t skipped today,’ I say evenly. ‘It’s my turn.’ None of them think I can do this; that’s why I have to.

  Before anyone else can speak, I wedge a boot into the fence. It rattles as I climb.

  Just stay focused. Stay calm. Don’t think about what might happen if something goes wrong.

  I take smaller steps down the bank than Boc, slipping only once on a loose rock. I get to the edge of the tracks and check my compad. 1.03.

  It’s dry down here, dusty. Scrubland and tree skeletons. I find a place between the two tracks, their parallel lines stretching out before me. I look up and search along the ridge, easily finding the others lined along the fence, watching silently.

  Check my compad. Two minutes to go.

  Breathe out, allow my shoulders to ease. I’m tempted to jump now, get this over with. But the risk is even greater if I do that, I realise. If the train is late, jumping early might lead to returning too soon …

  Don’t think. Just get to the other side.

  Another breath and I sense a change in the atmosphere, a rumbling from the centre of the earth.

  It’s coming. I let out a gasp at the sheer speed of the train, the weight of it coming straight at me.

  Close my eyes. Do it now.

  The drop is fast, tinged with relief. It’s safe down here. Already I’m deeper in than I like to be, but I hold onto the sense of where I am, edging my way through five minutes.

  Safe, now. I slide forwards a little more, just to be sure, before I pull up to the surface.

  Sucking in air, I land between the tracks and stumble forwards before catching myself. Bright light and hard sunshine. The rush feels heavy this time.

  I find my shorts and top, breathing hard, clear in my head now about what I was doing. I needed to prove this to myself as much as to the others. Maybe one day that freight train will be a police car, or even a bullet. Maybe. At least I know I can jump under pressure when I need to.

  The climb is easier this time. Echo begins to clap before I’ve even dropped to the ground on the other side of the fence. Slow claps, nodding with each one. Amon claps faster, not holding back.

  ‘Thought you’d chicken out,’ says Boc and jerks his head to one side. ‘Kudos.’

  I rub the tops of my arms. ‘Thanks.’

  Mason is standing to one side, one hand still gripping the fence. When he sees me looking he sets his mouth straight, not giving anything away.

  ‘Next train’s not for an hour,’ says Boc. ‘Anyone want to wait?’

  ‘Nah, time for us to get back,’ says Amon. ‘Our folks will be home soon.’

  To my relief, everyone seems to take that as a cue to leave as well.

  We start back across the park, the sun still strong. It’s only when he taps my shoulder that I realise Mason has fallen in beside me.

  As I turn to him, his hand slips back into his pocket. ‘Hey,’ he says.

  ‘Hey.’ I wait.

  ‘You did good today.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  He doesn’t say more after that, but he sticks by my side the whole way back in a way that makes it feel as if we’re in all this together.

  I’m not hungry when I get home, won’t need to sleep tonight, but I start prepping the delivery so that dinner’s ready when Mum comes home from a walk.

  She’s even more tired than usual so we don’t talk much, but when she asks how I am it’s easy to say,‘fine’. I don’t have to put on some act that I’m okay. This must be how it feels to think that all is lost, only to realise that you’re still alive.

  MUM SLEEPS LATE the next day. She’s only in the mood for tea and toast when I ask. Easy, at least.

  A few minutes later I carry over a steaming mug. ‘You all right?’ She’s sitting up in bed, catching up on news reports. I sit beside her and cross my legs on top of the covers.

  ‘Of course.’ She rests the compad on her lap. ‘Just a bit tired. Busy week. And …’ A sigh. ‘I need to go away next week, sweetheart, for a work conference.’

  ‘Cool. Like a holiday, except you have to work?’ The conferences she’s had before were via distance link-up.

  ‘I’m sorry, Scout. They won’t let me put it off any longer –’

  ‘Put it off?’

  ‘… they’ve been asking me for a while, but I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone.’

  She’s making way more out of this than she needs to. ‘I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. That sounds like fun.’ She rubs the back of her neck and I can tell she’s still not sure. ‘Mum, I’m fourteen. I can look after myself.’

  That makes her lips scrunch to one side, still too pale and thin. She’s spent so much of her life focused on me, she has trouble letting go.

  ‘It’ll be good for me, yeah?’ I say, trying to show that I’m relaxed about it so she’ll relax too.

  ‘I’ll speak to Alistair, ask him to check in with you,’ Mum says. ‘If you have any trouble, anything at all, ask him for help okay?’

  ‘Sure.’ Already I’m planning how far I’ll jump, a few days maybe. But of course I don’t say that.

  ‘Should I ask Mrs Richardson as well?’

  ‘Nah. That’s okay.’ I can tell that she’s been fretting about this for a while. ‘You’ll be able to call, won’t you?
’

  ‘Some nights.’ She’s sitting really still, just her eyes move to me. ‘What will you do while I’m gone?’

  ‘Mum, I told you. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘I mean, how will you pass the time?’

  ‘I …’ I don’t know if I should tell her about my plans to time skip. We haven’t spoken about it since the day after I showed her.

  ‘Listen Scout, I’ve been thinking a lot about your … disappearing.’

  I keep quiet, waiting until I see where she’s going.

  ‘Do you still think it might help you escape the authorities?’ Mum asks.

  ‘Yes.’ The eagerness rises – there’s so much I could share with her – but I keep it contained. ‘It takes practice, but I’m getting better. If I have to jump quickly I’ll be able to do it. And I can control how long I stay away, too …’

  I break off, watching her closely. She’s quiet for a bit, her body still.

  Impatience gets the better of me. ‘I thought you were okay with it now?’

  ‘No.’ But the smile creases have deepened around her eyes. ‘I’m still not happy, but I don’t want you keeping it from me either. I don’t want to push you away, Coutlyn.’

  ‘Mum.’ There’s reproach in my tone, telling her not to be silly. I place a hand on her knee beneath the doona, and she covers my hand with hers. An idea comes to me.

  ‘Maybe this will help.’ I grab my compad and shuffle closer so she can watch. ‘See? If you go in here, and then tap on … this.’ The grid appears on the screen, showing our two dots side-by-side. I tag my own and create a tracking bot. ‘I’ll set up the same shortcut on your compad. So all you have to do is tap on this icon, and you’ll be able to see where I am. Even if you don’t get a chance to call, you’ll be able to see me.’

  Mum’s been quiet through each of the steps.

  ‘And if you can’t find me on the grid, that means I’ve time skipped. But I always come back to the same place, okay? You might have to wait a day or so, but you’ll be able to see me return. You’ll know I’m okay.’

  Mum lifts a finger towards the screen. ‘Show me how to get in again?’

  ‘Like this? And then …’ Step-by-step I take her through it all once more while she nods and points. ‘I’ll set it up on your compad so you can check whenever you like.’

  When I get to the end, her eyes soften and lift to meet mine. ‘Okay. Good.’

  * * *

  ‘Agent X, reporting for duty.’

  It’s Mum’s first night away and I’ve just come home. I step around the entrance wall in the communal kitchen to see Alistair pulling on an oven mitt.

  Haven’t caught up with him for ages. ‘How are you, Alistair?’

  ‘Still working.’ A pause, before his eyebrows go up. ‘Hungry?’

  ‘Nah, thanks. I’ll be right.’

  ‘Come on.’ A stiff arm lifts towards the other side of the bench and gestures at a second place setting complete with a full glass of water. ‘I made shepherd’s pie. Just for you.’

  He opens the oven, guiding out a single-serve ramekin with golden potato mash peaked above it. The steaming dish rests on a plate while Alistair turns slowly back and pulls out a second, golden brown just like the first. It’s almost as if he was watching me on the grid and timed the meal for when I came home.

  He settles on the edge of a stool, half standing and half leaning. It doesn’t look comfortable. ‘Bon appetit.’

  What to say? My face is scrunched in its own torn push-pull. ‘But I …’ It would be rude to eat his food, but now that I see the second pie, it feels rude to refuse.

  My eyebrows go up. ‘Wait here, yeah?’

  The pies would be burning hot anyway. I dash back to our room and click the cold cupboard open. Five leftover lentil balls will do just fine. Yoghurt dip blobs into a fresh bowl. A carrot quickly becomes a pile of colourful sticks. Nothing too flash but at least I’ll be adding to the meal.

  Alistair drops his chin when I return with my plate, glad that I’ve accepted his offer without a fuss.

  The lentil balls are cold but taste okay smothered in sauce. We talk about the weather as we dip and chew, but I can’t help wondering what he knows. If Alistair was watching the grid to check when I’d be home, what else has he seen on my history map? And how much has Mum told him already?

  The pie makes my brain melt, it’s so good. Pretty sure it’s lab steak but you wouldn’t know, apart from the way the chunks fall apart in uniform segments. Not that I’ve had real steak for a while. I think the last time it was affordable enough for Mum was my seventh birthday. We’re halfway through when we run out of small talk.

  I jump in before he does. ‘So how’s work?’ I ask breezily.

  Alistair swallows, clears his throat. ‘Fine, still keeping me busy.’

  ‘Found the cure for cancer yet?’ Worth a try.

  No reaction other than crinkles deepening at the corners of his eyes.

  ‘Solved the famine crisis?’ I try again.

  ‘Something like that.’ One side of his mouth kinks up, enjoying the mystery that remains around his job no matter how many ways I ask.

  There’s still about a quarter of his pie left when Alistair leans back, pushing his plate towards the centre of the bench. He takes a sip of water.

  ‘How’s your mother?’ he asks.

  Not what I was expecting, but at least we’re getting somewhere. He would have spoken to her himself. ‘She’s okay. Busy, I think.’

  ‘She worries, you know.’

  And here we are. I decide to come right out and ask. ‘How much has she told you?’

  ‘Your mother told me … something quite extraordinary.’ His eyes travel from his plate to rest on me. ‘I spent a lot of time checking the grid to make sense of what I was seeing.’

  ‘And?’ Already, I’m standing. ‘Want to see for yourself?’

  ‘No.’ His face darkens. ‘No, Scout. Sit.’

  Back on the stool, disappointed but still eager to talk about it with him, I lean forwards. ‘But you saw on the grid, right? You can see it’s real. What do you think about that?’

  Alistair considers me for a moment.

  ‘I think …’ he starts, then breaks off. ‘The truth is I don’t know what to think.’ He shuffles on the stool. ‘Whatever this thing is that you’ve found, it needs to be studied, understood –’ ‘Yeah, I know …’ I’m leaning forwards, eager to join in but again he cuts me off.

  ‘… in controlled conditions, with safety systems. This thing is dangerous in the hands of kids. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.’

  My shoulders lift, because he’s right in some ways, but I end up shaking my head. ‘That’s just because you haven’t done it yourself.’ Nothing that feels that good could be dangerous.

  Now it’s Alistair’s turn to lean forwards. Slowly. Creaking. ‘But you don’t know, Scout –’

  Yes, I do. I think about being lost in the tunnel that day. But I made it out, didn’t I? It’s our own mind, our fears, that hold us back.

  ‘You’re only a few weeks away from beginning at your new school. You don’t want to jeopardise that opportunity.’

  ‘No.’ Head shaking. ‘No. It’s okay, Alistair. I promise you. It will be okay.’

  We’re quiet for a bit. Alistair takes a sip of water so I lift my glass too. I’m thirstier than I realised.

  ‘How are you feeling about school?’ he asks after a while.

  ‘Can’t wait.’ I place the glass on the bench and find myself smiling at him. ‘I couldn’t have managed it without you. Any of it, really.’ In my mind I move through all the ways he’s helped me. Getting into school. Understanding the grid. How to make the chip my own.

  ‘I worry, sometimes,’ Alis
tair sighs. ‘Perhaps I’ve sent you down a path of no return.’

  ‘Wouldn’t have it any other way.’ And now that I’m saying it, I realise how true that is. Other than Mason, I don’t think I’d change a thing even if I could. If I’d been a citizen, I’d never have stolen the chip, and never would have learnt how to time skip.

  That last thought is enough to make up my mind. I push back the stool and stand. ‘Stay there.’ I step around to the opposite side of the bench from Alistair. ‘I’m going to show you for real. Just this once.’

  Creases deepen on his forehead, but he stays quiet. Curious, perhaps.

  Two steps back, I kneel so that I can see his head and nothing more above the bench, which means that he can see the same of me.

  A quick glance along the hall: no sign of the Richardsons. Then back to look at Alistair with a smile of reassurance, before I drop away.

  Only a few seconds later I’m back, breathing hard and smiling at the rush of it. I slip on my clothes in seconds.

  Alistair hasn’t moved, other than his lips parting.

  Can’t help the corners of my mouth lifting and as they do, Alistair matches my expression. Amazed.

  ‘I could teach you, if you’d like,’ I try. ‘You’d be able to see further into the future than you ever would otherwise.’

  He blinks three or four times quickly and I wish I could take back the words I just said. What was I thinking? Talking about his mortality like that.

  Then he shakes his head. ‘I think I’ve already glimpsed it, Agent X. Just then, you showed the future to me.’

  * * *

  Mum comes home really flat at the end of her conference, her skin this pale shade of grey and her hair limp as if it hasn’t even been washed. She doesn’t want to talk about the conference much so I don’t push, but when I show her the credits I saved by time skipping, she relaxes and even smiles. We’ll pay back our debt sooner than we thought. I’m nearly 500 credits ahead of where I’d be if I’d stayed and, you know, done stuff and eaten food.