Edsel Grizzler

by James Roy

  ‘I can see a pretty long way,’ Edsel said.

  ‘Yes, you can. And all of that – and more – is Verdada.’

  ‘So it’s … huge.’

  ‘Bigger than you know.’

  ‘Is there another Verdada?’

  Richard’s face didn’t change. It was as if he hadn’t heard the question. ‘Another … ?’

  ‘Is there another Verdada? Or another place like it?’

  ‘Why would you ask that?’

  ‘It’s just that there doesn’t seem to be enough space back there to handle everything that could be lost.’

  ‘As you just pointed out, it’s an awfully big place.’

  ‘I know, but still … I mean, people lose a lot of stuff.’

  ‘There are some ideas that don’t make perfect sense right away, Robert. Where we process all the “stuff”, as you call it, is one of those ideas. So, do you like what you see so far?’

  ‘Yeah, it all looks … awesome, I guess.’

  ‘I know. And thank you – that means a lot. Please, follow me. I want to show you something.’

  Richard led Edsel through the front door of the Hub, and if Edsel had needed any more confirmation that everything he’d seen so far made any sense at all, it was the logo carved into the golden sandstone above the door: a V within an oddly shaped oval.

  Unlike most foyers, the entrance way didn’t feel terribly formal or imposing. It was really no more than a room, with a couple of couches, a small table with various snacks laid out, a water cooler, and a TV mounted on the wall. Directly in front of them was door made of friendly coloured wood, and to their left a corridor bent away and out of sight, following the curve of the building.

  ‘Is there a receptionist?’ Edsel asked.

  ‘Not really. If you want to see me, you just come here and ring this,’ Richard said, indicating a small brass bell hanging on the wall.

  ‘I just ring it? And wait?’

  Richard nodded. ‘And if someone doesn’t come out straight away, just be patient, because they will. All you need to do is sit back, relax, and wait. Now, if you’d like to follow me …’ Richard reached out and opened the door. ‘After you.’

  Through the doorway, Edsel saw sky.

  ‘After you,’ Richard repeated.

  As Edsel entered, he was surprised to see that despite having stepped out of the foyer, they were now high up in the turret he’d seen from the lawn. ‘Weren’t we just on the ground floor?’ he asked. ‘And now we’re … up here?’

  Richard smiled. ‘I know, it’s hard to get your head around, but as I said, you don’t need to understand everything. Please, take a seat.’

  In the centre of the room, two leather couches faced one another across a large wooden box, which was bound with strong metal sashes, like a pirate’s treasure chest. But Edsel was more interested in what was going on beyond the room’s tall windows, which offered a view across all of Verdada, and in every direction: the park and playing fields, the forest, roller-coasters, a beach which Edsel hadn’t seen from ground level, a golf course, and snowcapped mountains in the distance.

  ‘Is that real snow on those mountains?’ he asked.

  ‘Which you can really ski on, yes.’

  ‘I’ve never skied. It’s expensive. And dangerous.’

  ‘Not here.’

  ‘Not expensive or not dangerous?’

  ‘Either,’ said Richard, smiling.

  ‘Is anything here dangerous?’

  ‘Not really. We have a lot of activities that you might expect to be too dangerous for children to do, but they’re not. We’re not really into danger here. We don’t like it. Skiing, skating, mountain biking, climbing, and lots more. And best of all, they’re all perfectly safe.’

  ‘Surfing?’

  ‘We have that.’

  ‘No sharks?’

  ‘No sharks.’

  ‘Do you have … circus trapeze stuff?’

  ‘We do,’ Richard replied. ‘If it’s fun, you can do it in Verdada.’

  ‘How about skydiving?’ Edsel asked. ‘I’ve always wanted to try that.’

  ‘We have a farm and a small zoo, if looking after animals is your thing. Animal husbandry, I think they call it.’

  ‘But skydiving?’ Edsel asked again.

  ‘Ah, that,’ Richard said, with a slight shake of his head and a quiet little grin. ‘No, I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Too dangerous?’

  ‘No, just unnecessary, with so much other fun to be had. But we’ll talk more about that later. Please, sit.’

  Edsel sat on the edge of one of the couches. It was incredibly soft, and made him want to sink back into it.

  ‘You can relax,’ Richard said, sitting on the other one and crossing his legs. ‘As Man told you, your status is perfect for Verdada. If it weren’t, you wouldn’t be here now.’

  ‘It’s weird.’

  ‘Of course – new things often are – but that’s only because it’s not what you’re used to,’ Richard replied. ‘Unfamiliarity can be disconcerting.’

  ‘But all I did was get into this … this spaceship thing and press the button. Hang on – did I electrocute myself? Am I dead?’

  Richard laughed, the sound bubbling out of him easily. ‘Of course not. If you were dead, you wouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Oh, well that’s a relief. You know, I honestly thought the Egg was one of those things at the shopping centre … Do you even have shopping centres here?’

  ‘We don’t need them,’ Richard replied. ‘Everything is supplied. And when you got into the “Egg”, as you call it, you were being chosen, as much as you were choosing to use it. Please, sit back down,’ he said as Edsel stood.

  ‘But I don’t understand! This is—’

  ‘Of course you don’t understand – not yet – but that’s no reason not to try and learn. So please, Robert, sit.’ He gave Edsel a reassuring smile. ‘Please.’

  Cautiously, Edsel perched on the edge of the couch again.

  ‘Would you like a drink, or something to eat?’

  Edsel looked around the room, which was empty, except for the couches and the chest. ‘No, I’m fine,’ he said.

  ‘Are you sure? It’s no trouble.’

  ‘Okay … Lemonade?’

  ‘Of course.’ Richard snapped his fingers, then waited, smiling at Edsel, who looked back, saying nothing. What was there to say any way?

  A moment later the door opened and Man entered, carrying a covered tray, which he placed on the chest. He removed the cover to reveal a tall, icy glass of lemonade with a slice of lemon in it, before stepping to one side, partly behind Richard and partly towards the door. Then, with his hands folded in front of him, Man stood silently.

  ‘Go ahead,’ Richard said, nodding towards the drink. ‘You don’t need to be nervous. It’s lemonade, as you requested.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Edsel said, picking up the glass, feeling the icy condensation against his fingertips, so cold it almost hurt. He tried to remember what he’d read about dreams and pain. Was it that in dreams you can feel pain, or you can’t? He was pretty sure it was that in dreams you can’t feel pain. Which meant that he wasn’t dreaming, as much as he’d hoped that he was.

  He took a sip. The drink certainly tasted like regular lemonade. Very nice, regular lemonade.

  ‘All right?’ Richard asked, watching Edsel closely.

  ‘Yeah, it’s good. Oo!’ he yelped as he was suddenly hit with a case of brain freeze, right between the eyes. No, this was definitely no dream.

  ‘Now, Robert, listen carefully,’ Richard was saying. The role of the kids in Verdada is to make decisions about each Lost Thing. Each item you’ll assess – assuming you stay – has been misplaced. Some will be returned, some will never be found again. Your role is to decide.’

  ‘I see,’ Edsel said.

  ‘No, you don’t. Not yet. Robert, each and every child here possesses a very special responsibility. Your role, after training, will be to consider Lost Th
ings, one at a time and the circumstances that led their loss, and to decide whether they should be returned, redistributed, or destroyed.’

  ‘Why kids? What do kids know about this sort of thing?’

  ‘Children are very wise, certainly wiser than they’re given credit for. If you’d like, you can be part of this great honour and responsibility.’

  Edsel fought down the urge to leap out of his seat once more. ‘But why? Why would I do this? What’s in this for me? Apart from lots of time off doing fun stuff, I mean.’

  ‘Oh, the reward for service to Verdada is generous, and far exceeds being able to play some game on the beach or ride a roller-coaster or eat as much ice-cream as you like. The true reward is that, after a short qualifying period, each Arbiter is granted something terribly precious. You are granted your Heart’s Greatest Desire.’

  ‘Which is what?’

  Richard held out both hands. ‘It’s different for everyone.’

  ‘But I don’t know what mine is.’

  ‘Oh, we give you time to think about that before you decide. But there is a catch.’

  ‘I knew it!’ Edsel said. ‘Go on, tell me – what’s the catch?’

  ‘The catch is that those who choose their Desire may never return home.’

  ‘Never?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yes, but that’s not as bad as you might think. They get to stay here, Forever Young, in a place of Forever Fun.’ Richard smiled. ‘You might say that that’s our slogan here in Verdada. It’s not bad, is it? Maybe we should put that over the gate.’

  ‘Where’s the gate?’

  ‘There isn’t one. But it’s still a good slogan, don’t you think?’

  ‘Forever Young, in a place of Forever Fun,’ Edsel said, trying out the words. ‘What if someone is keen to grow up, but they never get there?’

  ‘What’s so great about being a grown-up?’ Richard asked, a slight frown twitching around his eyes.

  Edsel thought. ‘Well, to start with, you get to drive a car.’

  ‘We have the best kart track you’ve ever seen, just over that way, near the beach.’

  ‘Adults don’t have to do homework.’

  ‘In Verdada, we don’t believe in homework. Or school. Although we do have a very impressive library, and ridiculously fast computers, if learning is your thing.’

  ‘No one tells adults what to do.’

  Richard shook his head. ‘Oh, now that’s not true,’ he said. ‘Adults are being told what to do all the time.’

  ‘But they can watch whatever they like on TV, and no one tells them to go to bed.’

  Richard leaned forward. ‘That’s correct, but we don’t tell you to go to bed here either. You go to sleep when you’re tired. And while we’re talking about being tired, how does your father look when he gets home from work?’

  ‘Exhaused, actually.’

  ‘Any idea why?’

  ‘Because he’s so tired after work, I suppose,’ Edsel suggested.

  ‘Precisely.’ Richard sat back and folded his hands. ‘Sheer exhaustion. So, what’s so great about being a grown-up, do you think?’ He paused, while that thought sunk in. ‘Robert, if you’d like, we can do a bit of a trial session right now. What do you say?’

  ‘Now? Right now?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t have to make a decision right away?’

  ‘Oh, no. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.’

  Even as Richard spoke, a panel in the top of the chest was opening, and a platform smoothly rose out of it. Edsel watched this almost without reaction. The more weird and crazy things he saw, the less weird and crazy he found them. To be honest, he found this fact a little unsettling.

  On the platform were four green boxes, numbered from one to four, and a pencil.

  ‘All right, what do I do?’

  ‘Open the boxes in order,’ Richard replied. ‘Follow the instructions you find inside.’

  Carefully, Edsel took the lid from the first box and peeked in. Resting on top of an orange folder was a plain brown rubber band.

  ‘There’s nothing in here except a folder.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Richard asked.

  ‘Well, there’s a rubber band too, but there’s no … thing.’

  ‘Read the document,’ said Richard, and Edsel opened the folder. A photograph of the rubber band was clipped to the top of a sheet of paper, which contained the details of the item.

  1 x rubber band, brown, good condition, non-perished. Last seen: second kitchen drawer, by Mrs Heather Noyce. Required for: securing bundle of recycled Christmas cards.

  ‘So?’ asked Edsel.

  ‘Read on,’ said Richard.

  Recommendations, it said partway down the page. Then there were a number of options with tick-boxes beside them:

  □ Return to place last seen, pending steps retraced

  □ Move to place least likely

  □ Retain and store for later re-evaluation

  □ Reassign to alternative location/owner

  □ Remove completely and destroy

  □ Other

  ‘What do I do now?’ Edsel asked.

  ‘Make your recommendation. It’s up to you to decide. Should Mrs Noyce get her rubber band back?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so,’ said Edsel with a shrug. ‘She just wants to hold some old cards together. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?’

  ‘Then tick the box,’ Richard said, and Edsel picked up the pencil and placed a bold tick next to Return to place last seen.

  ‘Good. Number Two,’ said Richard.

  ‘That was easy,’ Edsel commented as he opened the second box.

  ‘Yes, the first one usually is.’

  The second box contained a pink blanket, folded neatly on top of its orange folder. As Edsel lifted the blanket out, he saw that it was slightly frayed along one edge. Opening the folder, he read that the blanket belonged to a little girl called Maddie. There was even a photo of her, holding the blanket and sucking her thumb.

  ‘Oh, she’s cute,’ Edsel said. ‘If she’s lost her blanket she should definitely have it back.’ He picked up the pencil. ‘Kids like their cuddly toys and things—’

  ‘Not so fast,’ Richard interrupted. ‘Read the details properly before you make any hasty decision.’

  ‘Okay, fine,’ said Edsel, and he lifted the edge of the photo to read what was printed beneath.

  Maddie Ronaldson, aged four, has had ‘Blankie’ since she was born. Without it, she finds it very difficult to get to sleep at night. Her mother has become concerned that Maddie’s teeth are growing crookedly because she always sucks her thumb when she falls asleep holding Blankie.

  ‘Oh,’ said Edsel, now understanding. ‘So if she can’t find the blanket, she won’t suck her thumb, and her teeth won’t grow all crooked.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Richard, nodding.

  ‘Maybe she could have it back later, once she’s over the whole thumb-sucking thing.’

  ‘Read through your options.’

  ‘Retain for later re-evaluation?’ Edsel suggested, after reading through the list.

  ‘I think that would be best for Maddie, don’t you?’ said Richard and, with a nod, Edsel ticked that option. It felt like the right decision.

  ‘She’s going to miss her blanket,’ he said as he put it back in the box and replaced the lid.

  ‘Only for a while,’ Richard replied. ‘Box Three.’

  As Edsel reached for the third box he felt sure that it moved, just a little. It also had some air holes in its side. ‘What’s in there?’ he asked, pulling his hands away.

  ‘I can’t tell you that,’ Richard replied. ‘You’ll need to open it.’

  Cautiously, Edsel lifted the lid, and sat back with a little surprised sound as he saw that the box contained a small, white, fluffy dog. Instinctively, he pulled his hands away. ‘It’s a dog! Do you look after lost pets as well?’

&nbs
p; ‘Sometimes,’ Richard answered. ‘Go on – read the document.’

  Edsel slipped the folder from beneath the little dog, who licked his hand. ‘Its name is Bob,’ Edsel said as he read the details at the top of the page. ‘He was lost by a boy called Gary Russo. It says here that Gary is nine years old, and that he got Bob for Christmas.’

  ‘What else does it tell you?’

  ‘It says that Bob ran away when Gary left the front gate open by accident. This one’s easy too,’ Edsel said, glancing at Richard as he plucked up the courage to scratch Bob between the ears. ‘He’s got to go back to his owner.’

  Richard shook his head. ‘Once again, you haven’t read all the way to the end. It also says in that document that the boy did some terribly unkind things to that dog. Cruel and quite horrid. Should that animal be returned to endure more of that type of treatment?’

  Edsel pursed his lips and thought hard as he read about the awful things Gary had done to Bob. ‘I suppose not,’ he said when he reached the end, his pencil hovering over the various options. ‘I suppose Bob should be reassigned to an alternative location.’

  ‘Very good,’ said Richard. ‘You can put that lid back on if you like.’

  ‘Will Bob be okay?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘All right, in you go there, little buddy,’ he said, gently pushing Bob’s head down so he could return the lid to its place. The dog whined softly, and Edsel looked up at Richard. ‘Can I hold him, just while we’re talking? He doesn’t want to go back in there just yet.’

  Richard smiled. ‘Of course.’

  ‘He doesn’t have hydatids, does he?’

  ‘Certainly not!’ exclaimed Richard, apparently insulted at the very suggestion.

  ‘Oh good. Well, thanks.’ Edsel lifted the little bundle of fluff out of the box and sat it on his lap. After a couple of strokes, Bob flopped down and made himself comfortable, with his eyes closed and his tail wagging slightly. ‘He likes me,’ Edsel said.

  ‘Evidently. So, are you beginning to see your role in Verdada, Robert?’

  ‘To decide what happens to all Lost Things?’

  ‘That’s right. Then they head off to the Processing Division, with your recommendation. But the decision is yours.’

  ‘But that’s hard. There are going to be times when it’s hard to decide the best thing.’