by James Roy
‘I’m normal,’ Edsel said.
‘Really?’
Suddenly he didn’t seem so sure. ‘Well, I think I am.’
‘You think you are, or you believe you are?’
‘What’s the difference?’
Ben sighed. ‘I’ve got news for you, Robert. They never bring anyone here who’s entirely normal. But they look after us well, that’s for sure. And that’s what matters.’
‘ “They”? Who’s “they”? Do you mean Richard and Man?’
‘No, Richard’s not one of them, and neither is Man. They’re not Mira.’
‘Mira?’
‘Everyone in Verdada works for the Mira. We all do, and if you stay, you will too.’
‘But who are they? Is that even a real word?’
‘I don’t know who they are. None of us do.’
‘You’ve never met them?’
Ben shook his head. ‘But they’re here.’
Edsel looked around. ‘Where? Where are they?’
‘Everywhere.’
‘You mean … here, hovering in the air, all, like, invisible?’
‘What? No!’ Ben laughed. ‘No, they’re not magical. They’re not like fairies or anything.’
‘So what are they?’
‘I told you, Verdada is theirs. We’re here for them. They chose us because we had what they needed. We’re good at deciding.’
Edsel took a large bite of his chicken burger. It was a very good burger, and he had to agree that in this case at least, he had been very good at deciding.
Ben was grinning at him.
‘What?’
‘You’re scoffing that like it’s your last meal.’
‘Sorry.’ Edsel put the burger down. ‘I guess I’m used to my mum getting in first. You eat fast in my house, or you don’t get fed. You should see my dad – he’s a stick.’
‘Well you don’t have to worry about that here. There’s more than enough for everyone, that dog of yours included.’ Ben leaned forward. ‘Hey, Robert, how’d you get here? Tell me, while it’s fresh.’
So with Bob on his lap, Edsel told Ben about the events that had led to him being in a grey room with a silver-suited man called Man.
‘Were you scared?’ Ben asked.
‘Of course! I was terrified.’
‘Everyone is. It seems weird at first. But after a while it just feels normal. Oh, there’s that word again – normal!’
‘When did you come here?’ Edsel asked.
Ben smiled and turned his eyes in the direction of a couple of kids playing handball just outside the window. Then he shrugged. ‘I don’t really know. You tend to lose track of time.’
‘A couple of months? A year? Longer?’
Ben shrugged again. ‘A long time, I think.’
‘And what did you leave behind?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What sort of family did you have? What was your house like? Your school?’
A sudden, troubled look clouded Ben’s face. ‘Oh, I don’t know …’
‘I told you about mine.’
‘No, I mean I really don’t know. It’s strange, but I honestly don’t remember very well. Stuff kind of fades.’
‘Did they love you?’ Edsel asked.
Ben’s eyebrows bunched together as he thought. ‘I suppose so. I guess I’ve been in Verdada for quite a while, though, because I don’t remember much at all about … about before. But we shouldn’t be talking about this.’
‘Why not?’ Edsel asked.
‘We’re not really supposed to talk about where we came from. They prefer us to forget. They say we might feel tempted to go back.’
‘And are you?’
Ben shrugged. ‘I don’t know. This is where I live now. It’s too late for me anyway. I made the decision to stay so long ago, I think.’ His eyes suddenly seemed very sad. ‘Besides, what if I could go back, and did, only to discover I’d changed?’
‘Changed how?’
‘Well, all this has to change you, don’t you think?’ Ben said with a sweep of his arm that barely missed Edsel’s milkshake. ‘So I wouldn’t want to go back anyway.’
‘But doesn’t the not knowing frighten you?’
‘Not knowing what?’
‘Richard said that when you come to Verdada for a while and go back, the time you’ve been away is just like a moment for the people back there. But what if it’s not? What if they’re running around looking for you, ringing all your friends, calling the police? What if they’re really worried about you?’
Ben frowned. ‘Listen, you can’t get worked up about that stuff.’
‘But Hoagy and Kenny both came – I mean went - back. But what if I don’t? Where am I? Where have I gone?’
‘You’re here, and you’re safe, and you’ve got a job to do – that’s all that matters now. Or at least, you’ve got a decision to make, tomorrow morning.’ Ben stood up. ‘Come on, there’s something else I want to show you. You can bring the dog.’
‘Where are you taking me now?’
‘It’s okay,’ Ben said. ‘You’ll like it. And don’t forget your book.’
With surprising confidence, Ben led Edsel out of the dining room, his white cane tapping against the floor. They walked across the thick grass, past the basketball courts, and the jumping castle, where some of the younger kids were squealing and having such fun that Edsel thought for a moment about kicking off his shoes and joining them.
Ben laughed. ‘You’re slowing down, like you want to jump on with them. Maybe you can do that later, but what I want you to see is just down here.’
They were heading for the forest that Edsel had seen earlier, the one that had made him start thinking of fairies. As they approached, Edsel was suddenly aware of how much following he’d been doing recently – first Man, then Richard, now Ben – and he jogged to catch up.
‘Are there fairies in this forest?’ he asked as they headed along a wide, meandering path that seemed to burrow deep into the forest. He’d already seen so many odd things today that he wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see a fairy gallop past on a squirrel.
Ben smiled. ‘I didn’t used to think so, but the longer I stay here, the more I start to think that there might be. There, check that out,’ he said as they left the forest and reached the edge of a high cliff, with a guard fence along the edge. To his right, Edsel saw a tall, feathery waterfall plunging into the deep valley, and to his left, the pure sound of bellbirds echoed from a deep gully splitting the rock.
‘It’s amazing,’ he said.
‘So I’m told. This is a pretty popular spot. There are paths all down in there, if bushwalking is your thing. And rock-climbing and caving and abseiling, if those are more your thing. Not really mine, though. They say that you shouldn’t look down, but how about not looking anywhere?’
‘Good point.’ Watching Bob run to the edge to sit at the fence and gaze out into space, Edsel drew in a deep breath. He’d never seen an horizon that wide, or so distant. His parents would never have let him get this close to an edge like this. It was the most outdoors place he’d ever been, and it made him feel terribly, terribly small.
‘Nice windmills,’ he said, spotting the dozen or so huge white wind turbines on a plateau that stood pretty much directly in front of them. Their enormous blades spun slowly.
‘That’s how they make power here. No pollution, you see.’
‘Is that the only way?’ Edsel asked.
Ben nodded. ‘Yes. Why?’
‘What if there’s no wind? Do the lights just go out?’
Ben shook his head. He seemed confused. ‘What do you mean? There’s always wind.’
‘But what if there wasn’t?’
‘But there always is,’ Ben protested. ‘There always is, and there always will be.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
Ben pointed far off to the left. ‘You can probably see some more wind turbines over there, see?’
Edsel look
ed, and a moment later spotted the second set of huge white blades, turning slowly against the sky. ‘Oh yeah, I see,’ he said. ‘But wait, if there’s no wind, it doesn’t matter how many turbines there are.’
‘No, you don’t understand. Those turbines over there make the wind to make these ones turn.’
‘So what makes them turn?’ Edsel asked.
Ben frowned. ‘Electricity generated by these ones in front of us. Don’t you see? It’s a perfect set-up.’
‘No,’ Edsel said, shaking his head, all the time thinking that of all the bizarre conversations he’d already had today, this was quite possibly the most bizarre. ‘It would be a perfect set-up, except that’s not how it works. You can’t have one thing making the electricity to make itself work. It’s not possible.’
‘Of course it’s possible – it’s happening!’ Ben exclaimed. ‘It’s happening in front of you. Look! You can see it, can’t you?’
‘I think someone’s been telling you lies, Ben.’
‘Can’t you see it?’
‘I can see it, but that doesn’t mean that’s how it works.’
Ben seemed suddenly exasperated. ‘There’s probably another set of turbines further over there which push that lot, and the electricity helps push itself. The thing is, Robert, it works. It’s working!’ He pointed again. ‘It’s happening!’
Edsel shook his head. ‘No, it’s not possible,’ he repeated.
Ben sighed. ‘Robert, in Verdada anything is possible. You haven’t been here very long, so you can’t see that yet, but in time you will. Once you’ve seen these things for yourself, without trying to see the reasons why something can’t be how it looks, you’ll start to get that it all works.’
Edsel scratched his head. ‘It’s hard, though.’
Ben’s voice was calm and strangely comforting. ‘I know, I know. But it does get easier.’
They walked back to the Domus by a different route, which led past the beach, where a number of kids were riding boards on the curling waves, swimming in the shallows, making sand castles. A brightly painted kiosk stood at the edge of the sand, and tall Norfolk Island pines cast dappled shade across the highest part of the beach.
‘Okay, and now I’m confused again,’ Edsel said. ‘I mean, there’s an ocean here, but just back there you showed me a … a canyon?’
‘It’s Verdada,’ Ben said.
‘But how come—’
‘How come? Because it is, that’s all. Don’t you see, Robert, in Verdada, things just are.’
‘It’s kind of amazing.’
‘Of course.’
A short distance from the bright sand, across a strip of lawn, was a skate park. All the skate parks Edsel had ever seen were in magazines, mostly because West Malaise was desperately short of anything fun, such as skate parks. Besides, even if there’d been an awesome park on the opposite side of Bland Street, his parents would never have allowed him to use it. The risk of bruises, scratches, broken bones, kidnapping, alien abduction were all too great.
But of all the skate parks Edsel had ever seen in magazines, this had to be better than all of them.
Fifteen or twenty boys and girls were either riding their boards across the deep, smooth bowls, grinding along rails, performing the kinds of tricks that Edsel had only ever imagined doing, or watched the others.
‘You like skating?’ Ben asked as Edsel slowed.
‘I don’t know – I’ve never done it. But I think I’d like to. I’ve been saving for a board, but don’t tell my parents. It’s got a Gary Fletcher plank.’
Ben raised one eyebrow. ‘Who’s Gary Fletcher?’
‘Never mind,’ Edsel said, holding his breath as a girl in a bright red helmet pulled a seven-twenty off the top lip of the widest half-pipe. She landed it, and the other kids waiting their turn clapped and whistled.
‘So, you’ve never skated?’ Ben said. ‘Well, there’s no time like the present. Toby, did I hear you there?’
‘What do you … What are you doing?’ Edsel asked as a short blond kid, who’d been sitting on his board and watching the others skate, stood up and came over.
‘Hey, Ben,’ the kid said.
‘This is Robert,’ Ben said.
Edsel held out his hand. ‘Hi, Robert.’
The kid frowned. ‘I thought you were Robert. I’m not Robert – I’m Toby.’
‘Oh yeah, how stupid,’ Edsel said, as he felt himself beginning to blush. ‘Sorry. I’m Robert. I keep forgetting.’
Toby’s eyes had taken on a glazed expression, as if he was staring into space. ‘I thought it had happened again …’ he murmured.
‘You thought what had happened again?’ Edsel asked, but then he caught a glimpse of Ben giving a very slight shake of the head.
‘Robert will actually be staying with you tonight,’ Ben explained to Toby. ‘Hey, can you lend him your helmet and your board for a minute?’
‘Oh, no, that’s okay …’ Edsel began to say.
But the kid already had his helmet off and was handing it over. ‘It’s fine,’ he was saying. ‘You’ll rock.’
‘I doubt it,’ Edsel said. ‘I’ve never—’
‘Nah, you’ll be fine,’ Toby said again.
‘That’s right,’ Ben agreed.‘Trust us.’
‘I’ll fall on my bum or break my neck, or both. Maybe I’ll just try it on a path somewhere.’
Ben’s hand was gripping Edsel’s shoulder. ‘Trust us, Robert,’ he said, holding out the board. ‘As I keep telling you, things are a little different in Verdada.’
Edsel looked at the skate bowl. All the other kids were watching him. They didn’t seem hostile, but nor did they seem terribly friendly. They were just looking at him, waiting. Expectantly.
‘I can do this?’
‘Things are different here,’ Ben repeated. ‘I’ll hold your book for you.’
With shaking hands, Edsel buckled the helmet and took the board from Toby. Then he looked up. All the other kids had cleared from the skate bowl, and were still waiting. Still expectant.
‘All yours,’ Toby said. ‘Off you go.’
Edsel stepped forwards, towards the sharp, hard edge of the skate bowl and, bending over, put the board on the ground and placed his left foot in the centre of the plank. It was strange, how his foot felt so comfortable there, like it belonged. It was as if it was being pulled to the board by some kind of force, just as the canopy of the Egg had felt as if it were being pulled into place by some invisible Something.
He glanced back at Toby and Ben, and at all the other watching kids, before looking down at the bottom of the skate bowl. It was so far down, and the first drop-off so horribly, terrifyingly steep.
Then, as if a strong hand was pushing him gently but firmly in the back, he felt himself leaning forwards, taking his centre of gravity out towards the edge, then over it, and suddenly he was falling.
But he wasn’t falling at all, or at least not in the way he’d imagined he might. He was rolling smoothly, the sides of the bowl slipping past him, the wide ocean horizon disappearing beyond the opposite side of the bowl, the sky lost behind him for a moment. And then he knew, and truly believed that he was, for the first time ever, and on the first time he’d even tried it, actually riding a skateboard.
And it felt amazing.
‘That was good, huh?’ Ben said as they walked back towards the Domus.
‘Awesome,’ Edsel replied. One word was all he could manage, after the surprising feeling of skating, and skating properly. He hadn’t pulled off any particularly spectacular tricks, but he hadn’t broken anything either. And afterwards, most of the other kids had told him how good he was, especially for someone who’d never skated before.
‘That was your first time?’ Toby had said as he took his board and helmet back. ‘Seriously?’
Yes, it had been his first time. And yes, he had been quite awesome.
‘Hey, what’s going on with that Toby kid?’ he asked Ben.
‘What do y
ou mean?’
‘He just seemed weird. And his face went kind of blank.’
‘Did it? Yeah, sometimes he says stuff that doesn’t make a lot of sense. But he’s a nice kid. You’ll like staying with him.’
‘So what was his Desire?’
‘Huh?’
‘Well, Richard told me that if you choose to stay, you can’t go home, but you get your Heart’s Greatest Desire.’
‘That’s right.’
‘So, what’s Toby’s?’
Ben shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You’ve never asked?’
Ben shook his head. ‘That’s another thing we’re not supposed to talk about with one another.’
‘Why?’
‘We’re just not. It’s in the Charter.’
‘You’re not supposed to talk about it, but I bet you do. So go on. What’s yours?’
Ben smiled. ‘I’ve already got it. It’s this. What I’m doing now.’
‘Walking along?’
‘No. Helping people understand. Helping new people like you see how good things can be here in Verdada,’ he said, but something about the way he said it lacked conviction, and Edsel frowned.
‘I would have thought …’
‘Thought what?’
‘Never mind.’
‘That I would have chosen eyes that still worked?’
‘Well, yeah. I know that’s what I’d have chosen if I was …’
‘Blind?’ A slight frown tightened the muscles between Ben’s eyebrows. ‘It’s a long story, a story for another time. But this is what I do now,’ he said, suddenly brightening. ‘That’s why Richard always sends new people to me … because he knows that I’m enthusiastic about the place, even if I don’t have all the answers.’
They’d reached the Domus, and Ben held the door open for Edsel, who scooped Bob up.
‘After you,’ Ben said. ‘I want to show you where you’ll be staying.’
‘Just for one night, though, right?’
‘Yes, for one night.’
The room was quite small, but very clean and neat. Two beds, slightly wider than normal single beds, ran along opposite walls, with the bedheads by the wide, trapezoidal window.
‘Yours is the one on the left,’ Ben told him. ‘The other one is Toby’s. He’s an only child as well.’