Edsel Grizzler

by James Roy

  At that moment it occurred to him that he wasn’t wondering where home was, but where he was. Which meant that he wasn’t feeling the early pangs of homesickness, but Heresickness. Jacq had only just warned him of it, less than two hours before, and it was already beginning.

  And now it had started to rain. If what Ben said was true, it had just turned midnight, and he’d just begun his second day of many in Verdada. ‘Not that I’ve decided to stay,’ he reminded himself, aloud. ‘I’ve still got a few hours to decide.’

  At the sound of Edsel’s voice, Toby stirred. ‘What’s that?’ he muttered.

  ‘Nothing. It’s nothing.’

  Toby mumbled something else, turned over and went back to snoring, and lying back down, Edsel pulled up his quilt. This feeling of Heresickness would pass. If Jacq was telling the truth – and he had no reason to suspect that she wasn’t – it would go away. He’d feel it less and less. And yet when she’d said that to him, she’d seemed almost sad about it going away.

  And with that thought buzzing in his mind like a persistent mosquito, and with Bob curled up at his feet, Edsel finally fell asleep.

  Edsel Grizzler awoke easily. Ben had been right. There’d been no need for an alarm clock, or a wake-up call, or anything else like that. He just woke up, quickly and completely. Part of him had expected that he would wonder where he was, but he didn’t. He simply opened his eyes, knew where he was, and felt excited to be there.

  Through the window he saw the same sky, bright and vibrant, gently flecked with soft clouds, and as he stretched, Bob did the same at the foot of his bed. Today was going to be good. He could feel it.

  He rolled over and looked at Toby’s bed. It was empty. He was a funny kid. Friendly and happy, but there was something about him that made Edsel feel terribly sad.

  A quiet knock sounded at the door. ‘Come in,’ he said, and the door opened slowly.

  ‘Good morning,’ said Ben, his empty eyes trying to focus on some imaginary spot just to Edsel’s right. ‘How’d you sleep?’

  ‘Fine, thanks.’

  ‘Have you decided whether you’re going to stay or not? Just for the week, to start with?’ Then Ben shook his head and gave an embarrassed smile. ‘Sorry, it’s got nothing to do with me. That’s between you and Richard. I’ll catch up with you at breakfast.’

  The water in the shower was hot and strong, and the huge towel hanging within easy reach of the shower was thick and soft. As he dried himself, he looked in the mirror. The person in the reflection was so familiar. He was comfortable with that person. He liked a lot about that person.

  He thought then about his father, and how he looked. Balding, thin, and pretty old-looking. And his mother – terribly, unhealthily fat. And finally he thought about the wedding photo that hung on the wall just inside the front door back home, and what an attractive couple they’d once been. His father had been handsome, even a little muscly, and his mother had been beautiful. Back when they were happy, they’d looked good. But now … No, he didn’t want to get old. Staying the age he was now actually seemed like a pretty good idea.

  Ten minutes or so later, dressed in the new T-shirt and jeans taken from the wardrobe on his side of the room, Edsel stepped into the corridor. But instead of turning left towards the Common Room, he turned right, towards Room Fifteen.

  ‘Hey,’ said a young girl he recognised from the previous day. Her face had a pale blueish tinge to it, and was wrinkly, like fingertips after a long bath. ‘It’s Robert, right?’

  ‘No, it’s … Yeah, it’s Robert.’

  ‘I’m Henrietta, remember? First day today?’

  Edsel nodded. ‘Probably.’

  ‘Have a good day, all right?’

  ‘Thanks, Henrietta.’

  As she hurried away down the corridor, Edsel saw that the back of her legs, the back of her arms and the nape of her neck were bright red and blistered.

  ‘Henrietta,’ he called, and she turned back.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I hope you don’t think I’m rude, but what happened to your legs and … and your neck?’

  ‘Oh this?’ She twisted, and lifted the leg of her shorts a little. The blistering stretched right up the back of her thighs. ‘It’s sunburn.’

  ‘From what? Did you spend too much time in the sun yesterday?

  ‘No! No, I came to Verdada like this, and it’s never gone away. It’s just how I am now, I guess.’

  ‘Does it hurt?’ he asked, remembering the time he’d gone to the beach and his mum had accidentally put moisturiser on his back instead of sunblock. He’d burned really badly, and she’d been a guilty, emotional mess for days.

  Henrietta shook her head. ‘No, it doesn’t really hurt. Well, see ya!’

  Sunburn, Edsel thought. Sunburn that never fades but doesn’t hurt. Weird.

  He knocked on the door of Room Fifteen, and after a moment the latch rattled. The door swung open. ‘Who is it?’ Ben asked, frowning.

  ‘It’s me. Edsel. I mean, Robert.’

  ‘Robert! Come in! I thought we agreed to meet at breakfast.’

  ‘We did, but I wanted to see your room,’ Edsel replied. ‘Wow, it’s really …’

  ‘Messy. Yes, I know. The life of a blind kid would be a lot easier if he was tidy, but I don’t really manage that very well. Make yourself comfy – I won’t be long.’

  Edsel looked around the room. Most of the mess was made up of clothes and shoes, Braille books and magazines, and complicated electrical components. Ben had two desks in his room, one of which had a soldering iron and a small vice on it, while the other one had a laptop computer on it.

  ‘I’ve got a soldering iron like that at …’ Edsel hesitated. He didn’t want to say the word. ‘I’ve used a soldering iron quite a bit,’ he said. ‘And this is your computer? What’s that?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean when you say “What’s that?”,’ Ben replied.

  ‘Hooked up to your computer. It’s like a box with bumps on it.’

  ‘Oh, that’s my Braille display. Because I can’t read the screen in the normal way, I use that instead. I used to hate it, but I’m used to it now.’ Ben emerged from the bathroom. ‘Hungry?’

  ‘Starving.’

  Richard gestured for Edsel to take a seat on one of the leather couches in the turret room at the top of the Hub. ‘Good morning, Robert. How was breakfast?’

  ‘Good, thanks.’

  ‘What did you have?’

  ‘Um … pancakes, some cereal, a bit of toast. A hot chocolate.’

  Richard smiled. ‘Very good. And how did you sleep? Comfortable bed? Good company?’

  ‘Yes, it was really comfy. And Toby was nice.’

  ‘Excellent. And you had a bit of a look around? Did Ben give you the tour?’

  ‘Yes. It’s an amazing place.’

  ‘It is, isn’t it? We like it. Now, I don’t mean to rush you, but we should get this bit out of the way: have you come to a decision?’

  ‘I thought about it, like you said, and I think I’d like to do the week.’

  Richard beamed, and pressed his hands together. ‘That’s fantastic news, Robert! You’ll be very welcome, especially with the skills you’ll bring to the place.’

  ‘But I just need to check something, and I’m sorry to go over it again—’

  ‘You’re going to ask if you can go home after a week?’ Edsel nodded.

  ‘Robert, seven days from today, you’ll come back here and sit in that very seat, and I’ll ask you what you want to do. And you’ll give me one of two answers. You’ll either say “I want to stay”, or “I want to go home”. It couldn’t be more simple.’

  ‘And if I go home after a week, no one will have missed me? Because when I walked home the long way from school the other night – or at least I think it was from school, or was it the shops … ? No, it was school, and by the time I got home, my parents were beside themselves.’

  ‘As I told you yesterday, if you were to go back now
or in a week or in eight weeks, it wouldn’t make any difference. To them, back there, it would be like this,’ Richard said, snapping his fingers.

  ‘But if I stay, how will I sort things they’ve lost without them noticing I’m not there?’

  ‘Robert, we don’t allow Arbiters to appraise items lost by their friends and families. We’re very careful of that. It did happen once or twice, a long time ago, and it got messy. Besides, time here is completely different from time there, and we’re of completely different dimensions.’

  Edsel sat up. ‘I know about this!’ he said, with the vague and slightly guilty recollection of telling Kenny something similar. Only when he’d said it to Kenny, he’d been making the whole thing up. ‘There are the three dimensions – up and down, left and right, front and back – but then time is the fourth dimension.’

  ‘Back there, where you lived, that’s mostly true.’

  ‘So is Verdada the fifth dimension?’

  Dimples appeared behind Richard’s beard. ‘The number of the dimension in which Verdada resides is bigger than any number you’ve ever heard of, or imagined.’

  ‘Infinity?’ Edsel suggested.

  ‘Getting up in that range. The fact is that there’s little point even trying to figure out how There-time fits in with Here-time.’

  ‘Do the Mira know?’

  Richard winked. ‘Sometimes I think that even the Mira don’t quite understand how it works, but you didn’t hear that from me. So, do you have any other questions?’

  ‘I do, actually. Is there any fine print?’

  Richard smiled. ‘Fine print? You want to know about fine print? Remind me, how old are you?’

  ‘I’m thirteen, but I’m smarter than you’d think,’ Edsel replied. ‘So can we talk about that?’

  ‘Of course. What sort of fine print would you be referring to?’

  ‘Well, if I do my job properly and have all that time off with as much food as I want and fun and games and the best life ever, am I going to turn around one day and find that I’ve … I don’t know, had a kidney removed or something like that?’

  Richard laughed. ‘No one’s going to lose a kidney, Robert. And there is no fine print. If you agree to stay, you will have access to everything you’ve seen, and much more besides. You’ll experience fun and joy like you can’t even begin to imagine. It’s simple, so very, very simple. And it’s all in the Charter,’ he added, winking.

  ‘I did read it. Well, most of it, anyway.’

  ‘Very good. But you still seem undecided, Robert. Do you need more time? Would you like to do a day of work first?’

  Edsel looked out the window at the park, and the skaters, and the sports courts, and the cycle paths and the forest that hid the beach from view, and thought about the games room downstairs, and the library and the ridiculously fast computers. He thought about the farm, and the art room. He thought about the job he’d be doing, and how it wasn’t even a job, really. But most of all he thought about having no one to tell him what to do, or more importantly, to tell him what he couldn’t do.

  ‘Do I have to do the week first?’ he asked.

  A hint of frustration had begun to creep into Richard’s voice. ‘No, Robert, as I’ve explained, and as the Charter also explained, you can say you want to go home now, or you can stay for a week and then make your—’

  ‘No, I mean, can I tell you right now that I want to stay?’

  Richard’s brow tightened into a thin frown. ‘You want to commit to stay now, without the trial week? Why would you suggest that? You might hate it after a week.’

  Edsel shook his head. ‘No, I won’t. I want to do it like this, if that’s okay.’

  Richard scratched his chin. ‘It’s unusual, Robert. It’s a big commitment. Why rush into this decision?’

  ‘Because I’m sick of having to be so careful all the time. My parents are always saying “What if this?” and “What if that?” Everything I wanted to do, they’d say, “Oh, that’s too dangerous because something bad might happen.” I’m tired of being scared, so I want to do this. Anyway, I don’t think I’m rushing.’

  ‘But this is big, Robert. It’s bigger than you realise.’

  ‘I know. But if time here is like the infinitieth dimension, that means the space in this room is the infinitieth minus two or three dimensions, so what chance do I have of understanding it any better after a week? So no. I’ve had a look around, I’ve talked to lots of the other kids, they all seem happy and to like what they do, so I want to do it too. I’ve made up my mind.’

  Richard stood and walked to the window, keeping his back to Edsel as he spoke. ‘You could complete your training today and start working tomorrow, if you’d like.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I’d like. I want to stay. I do.’

  Richard nodded. ‘Very well. Just give me a moment. Excuse me.’ He turned and left the room, and Edsel picked up the dog and placed him on his lap.

  ‘It’s the right thing to do, Bob,’ he said. ‘I just want to make a decision. Anyway, I’m not even sure if this is real,’ he added. ‘It could be a dream. But if it is a dream, it’s a very good one.’

  A moment later the door opened again, and Richard returned. He sat down. ‘Robert.’

  ‘Yes, Richard.’

  ‘If you’re sure that you want to stay, we would love you to stay.’

  Edsel felt a shiver run across his shoulders. ‘That’s great,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No, thank you. I’d like you to come back in an hour, and Ben will start your training with you.’

  ‘Do I have to give Bob back, now that I’ve decided to stay?’

  Richard laughed, and again Edsel was struck by how easily it came. ‘Robert, the dog wasn’t a gift to entice you to stay. He was given to you because you obviously like one another. He’s yours – enjoy him. I’ll see you in a week, or earlier, if you need to talk.’ Richard reached out and shook Edsel’s hand. It was the first time they’d touched, and as their palms met, Edsel felt tingles in his skin that reminded him of the Egg.

  ‘Richard, do I need to tell you what I want right now?’ he asked.

  ‘Your Desire?’ Richard still had a firm grip on Edsel’s hand. ‘No, not yet. You mightn’t really know for a while. That’s one decision you definitely shouldn’t rush. Take the full week to think about it. But as of this moment, you’re Here. You are an integral part of Verdada, and we thank you. We’re your family now.’

  And it was only the knowledge that his parents were in some kind of unable-to-be-understood almost-infinitieth dimension limbo that made that statement sting with less guilt than Edsel might have expected it to.

  Some time later, he was back in the turret at the top of the Hub, but this time it was Ben sitting opposite him, while Bob lay on the floor, with his fluffy head resting on Edsel’s foot.

  Ben had a notebook computer on his lap. Just above the keyboard was a row of small squares made up of dots, which rose and fell in different combinations to represent letters, over which Ben’s chubby fingers scurried. It was incredible to watch, and once or twice Ben had needed to remind Edsel to concentrate on what he was meant to be learning rather than gawping at the way he used the Braille display.

  They’d been there for over an hour, and Edsel was beginning to feel more comfortable with the process. Every minute or so the top of the chest between them would open and an object would rise up on the platform. The latest was a pair of sunglasses.

  ‘My dad lost some of these the other day,’ Edsel said.

  ‘Your what?’

  ‘My dad. My father.’

  ‘Don’t do that,’ Ben said. ‘You’ve got to try not to link the objects you deal with back to your old life.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’ll just make you homesick.’

  ‘Or Heresick.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Edsel said.

  ‘Has Jacq been talking to you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’
r />   ‘She has, hasn’t she? Look, you shouldn’t pay too much attention to her.’

  ‘Okay,’ Edsel said, perhaps a little too quickly. ‘What’s her story, anyway? And what’s with the helmet? She never takes it off.’

  ‘Look, it’s not up to me to tell you her story.’

  ‘Fair enough. So tell me yours instead,’ Edsel said, leaning forward.

  Ben frowned. ‘Why are you so interested in everyone’s stories?’

  ‘I just am. I’m curious.’

  ‘You don’t need to keep asking people about why they’re here. It just makes you seem … I don’t know … nosey. Come on, we need to keep moving. Tell me about these sunglasses.’

  Edsel picked them up and turned them over in his hands. Then he swiped the reader he’d been given past the barcode and read the screen. These were just ordinary, moderately expensive sunglasses, lost by someone called Dale, and last seen in the glovebox of his sports car. There was nothing too complicated about …

  ‘I don’t think there’s anything too complicated about this one,’ Ben said.

  ‘How come you know what I’m thinking?’ Edsel asked.

  Ben sat back and smiled. ‘I’ve done this so many times now that I can pretty much predict what you’re going to say next. That’s all. Plus, blind people often develop their other senses more than non-blind people. Some end up being better at hearing, others can smell better, and I suppose I just turned out to be good at reading people, and guessing what they’re going to say next.’

  ‘So that was a guess?’

  ‘Pretty much,’ Ben replied, nodding.

  ‘Is that what you chose?’

  ‘You want to know if my Desire was the ability to read people over my ability to read words?’

  ‘I suppose that’s what I’m asking,’ Edsel answered cautiously. ‘Did you?’

  ‘I told you yesterday, that’s a long story.’

  ‘I don’t think I’m going anywhere.’

  ‘Which means there’ll be plenty of time to hear the story later.’

  ‘Or to do the training. Come on, tell me the short version.’

  Ben shook his head. ‘What are you going to do with those sunglasses, Robert?’