Edsel Grizzler

by James Roy

  He reached out one hand. The wall didn’t feel like anything. Well, maybe it felt like very fine cotton, or maybe paper. But it wasn’t cold or warm like he might have expected a wall to be. It just was. He couldn’t put his hand through it, and yet it seemed as if the paint of the mural was hanging in the air.

  The detail of the trees wasn’t terribly good. It was chunky, as if it had been pixelated, but from the fairway, through the real trees and shrubs and grass that stood in front of it, the mural, which rose from the ground at a perfect right-angle, gave the illusion of being very real.

  He glanced back towards where he’d parked the cart, which was still bathed in sunshine at the edge of the fairway, and that was when he noticed that one or two of the plants closer to the back were like the mural – two dimensional, and simply standing up, as if they were made of cardboard, except these he could pass his hand through.

  He leaned down to take a better look at the cut-out plant closest to him. At its base, where it met the ground, he saw a glimpse of dimply white plastic, and as he bent even closer he saw that the ball was lodged there, in a gap. And as he reached in, gripped the ball with thumb and forefinger and lifted it out, he saw that the gap was exactly that – a hole in the ground through which he saw the same blue as the sky above.

  Dropping the ball, he put his head against the ground and looked through the gap. It was similar to what you might find in a piece of paper that has been folded too often, with a small triangular opening developing right near the main crease. It seemed that the ground wasn’t deep, heavy soil like he might have expected, but a flat, paper-thin surface laid out over nothing.

  ‘Have you found it yet?’ he heard Jacq call.

  ‘Um … yeah, I have.’

  ‘Was it hard to find?’

  ‘Only a bit,’ he said absently. ‘Hey Jacq, do you remember what Ben said about the other side of the mountains?’

  ‘Of course – that there might be more mountains, or maybe nothing.’ She’d arrived at Edsel’s side, and she bent down to pick up her ball. ‘What about it?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know, really. Why?’

  ‘Look down here,’ he said, pointing at the gap near his feet.

  She shrugged, barely glancing down. ‘What is it?’

  ‘No, you’ll have to get closer than that. Get right down on your knees and look through there, behind that log.’

  ‘If I must,’ she muttered, kneeling down.

  ‘Lower. See it yet?’

  ‘See what? I don’t see … Oh!’

  ‘You see it now?’

  ‘It’s … nothing.’

  ‘I know.’ He turned to face the flat, pixelated backdrop further into the forest. The shrubs and smaller plants standing between him and the backdrop appeared real and perfect, but as he peered back towards the golf cart, he saw even more gaps at the base of bushes, logs, rocks. They were small, too small for him to see without knowing what he was looking for, but once he saw the first couple, he saw them everywhere – careless little faults in the surface of the ground.

  He began to walk towards the pixelated wall, stepping around the undergrowth, and when he reached it, he rested his hand against the surface, feeling its flimsy nothingness. ‘This isn’t very strong, I bet.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ Jacq asked as Edsel took the plastic golf tee from his pocket and pushed the tip against the wall. The image on the surface bowed inwards like canvas as the sharp tip stretched it.

  ‘I’m going to see through. I want to see what’s on the other side.’

  ‘You can’t just go poking holes in Verdada whenever you feel like … Oh, you did,’ Jacq said as the tip of the tee popped through.

  ‘I just need to see, so I know for sure,’ Edsel said, and as he pulled down on the tee, the wall tore with a satisfying ripping sound that was perhaps a little louder than he’d expected.

  ‘I think that was a mistake,’ Jacq said.

  ‘I think the mistake was expecting us to never find out,’ Edsel said, still working at the ragged, three-sided hole that was soon big enough to fit his head through. He gasped. With the emptiness beneath it, this wall was as thin as paper. He looked around on the other side. The wall appeared impossibly long both left and right, and beyond its base, level with Edsel’s feet, was even more nothing. It seemed terribly – and frighteningly – clear that Verdada was suspended in space, floating over an endless, every-direction expanse of sky-blue nothing.

  ‘It’s not a real place,’ he said, after he’d pulled his head back through. He barely believed his own words. ‘Verdada’s not real.’

  ‘What are you talking about? It must be real – we’re in it.’

  ‘No, it’s just a … it’s like a map in a computer game, with these walls to make it look real no matter which direction you look in. But I think that if you got in a helicopter or an aeroplane you’d see that it’s just a big square fake world hanging in the middle of nothing.’

  Jacq shook her head. ‘That can’t be right. There are other places like Verdada. There must be.’

  ‘In that case, why can’t I go skydiving?’

  Jacq seemed confused. ‘What’s that got to do with it? What’s that got to do with anything?’

  ‘Richard told me that whatever I wanted to try, I could try. Except skydiving. Why?’

  ‘Because … because—’

  ‘Because if I went up in a plane, I’d see Verdada from the air.’

  ‘Let me have a look.’ Jacq gently pushed Edsel out of the way so she could stick her head through the hole he’d made. ‘Oh!’ she said again. ‘You’re right! You’re right!’ As she withdrew her head, the edge of the hole caught briefly on her helmet and pulled it slightly crooked. Her face was pale. ‘What does this mean?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Edsel replied. ‘But it seems to me that there are far more questions in Verdada than answers.’

  Edsel rang the bell, and heard its pure, clear tone ring around the foyer of the Hub. In all the time he’d been in Verdada – however long it was – he’d never had any need to come here in search of answers. So far, all his questions had been answered by talking to others, or by gathering his own evidence, or from the Charter. Conversations, experiences, observations, direct questions to some of the other kids. And even though he had no way of knowing whether the conclusions he came to were true or not, he accepted them because they made enough sense. But this …

  He sat on the couch in the foyer and waited. Through the window he saw the sky, so blue, like a lie. A huge, filthy lie. And perhaps everything else he’d been told up until now was a lie as well. After three or four days in Verdada he’d stopped pinching himself – actually, literally pinching himself until he winced – trying to work out whether this was all some kind of very vivid dream. But now he was doubting it. Maybe it was time to pinch himself harder than he’d ever pinched himself before. He closed his eyes, took a fold of skin between his right thumb and forefinger, just beside the logo on his forearm, got his nails tucked in good and hard, and began to squeeze.

  ‘Robert.’ Man was standing in front of him.

  Edsel’s eyes flew open, and he stood. ‘I need to talk to Richard. It’s important.’

  ‘What is it regarding?’

  Edsel wished Man had some kind of facial expression – it was so hard to relate to a faceless person in a featureless silver skin.

  ‘It’s about something I’ve found. It’s very important.’

  ‘Wait here.’

  A minute or two later, the door to the turret room opened, and there was Richard. Behind him, Edsel saw a young boy, maybe ten or so, looking pale and rather terrified, and on the chest between the couches were four boxes, neatly lined up. ‘Robert, this is Lloyd,’ Richard said. ‘He arrived today.’

  ‘Hi, Lloyd,’ Edsel said. ‘Richard, I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Clearly. But now might not be a good time. You see—’

  ‘You said I could talk to
you any time. You said I just had to ring the bell and you’d come and talk to me.’

  Richard smiled. ‘I also said that you might need to wait, didn’t I? And this is one of those times. I’m busy with Lloyd, you see. In fact, you could help me. Would you like to show Lloyd around? I’m sure he’d love to—’

  ‘Verdada’s not real, is it?’

  Whatever reaction Edsel might have expected from Richard, it wasn’t the one he got. No surprise, no horror, no anger. Just a calm, slightly unnerving expression as he turned and said to Lloyd, ‘Just wait here, will you? I won’t be a moment.’ Then he stepped into the foyer, and pulled the door closed behind him. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘It’s all a lie, isn’t it? Or a dream.’

  Richard shook his head. ‘It’s neither, Robert. This – all of it – is reality.’

  ‘I was playing golf,’ Edsel explained. ‘And I saw something. There was a gap.’

  ‘A gap?’

  ‘In the forest. Except I don’t think you can even call it a forest, because it’s just this … this wall, with trees painted on it. And they’re not even painted very well.’

  ‘Just because the reality of that forest doesn’t measure up to your recollection of forests doesn’t make it any less real. It’s simply real in a different way,’ Richard explained in his unruffled manner. In fact, his voice was so placid that Edsel, for the very first time, found it a little annoying.

  ‘But I saw through the cracks, Richard,’ he protested. ‘And I know what I saw.’

  ‘Really? And what was that? What did you see?’

  ‘That Verdada is a fake world, just hovering in all this nothingness. It’s like a computer game or something, all two-dimensional around the edges, so it looks real from the inside.’

  Richard gestured for Edsel to sit down, before taking a seat himself, then gesturing beyond the glass doors and windows of the Hub’s foyer. ‘We don’t need any of this to do what we do here, Robert. Don’t you see? The trees, the beach, the grass, the roller-coasters and fun parks – they’re all just there to make you feel comfortable. And by you, I mean all of you. Even the food and beds aren’t necessary. You don’t think we could keep you alive with chemicals, and store you in silos, or keep you working hour after hour? Of course we could. But we don’t. We make Verdada feel real, and comfortable, and fun. Because you’re here for a very long time, remember. So you might just need to ignore the odd tree that doesn’t look quite right up close, or the cracks in the ground when you find yourself right near the edges of Verdada. You need to suspend your disbelief, otherwise you’re going to make yourself very unhappy.’

  ‘But I can’t – not now I’ve seen it.’

  Richard nodded. ‘I know it’s hard, but you must.’ He leaned forward slightly. ‘Who else knows?’

  ‘Just Jacq.’

  ‘Robert, you can’t tell anyone else about what you know. After all, what good would it do? It would simply lead to unrest, and we don’t want that. Do we?’

  Edsel shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘Good lad. Now, how do you feel about showing Lloyd around? He’s a little nervous, and you know how that feels, don’t you?’ Richard stood up. ‘Come on, I’ll introduce you properly.’

  ‘So, we can do all of this?’ Lloyd asked as he and Edsel stood beside the park, watching children play. ‘Richard said it could be forever.’

  ‘Sure, if you want it to be.’

  ‘I think I do.’

  ‘Right,’ said Edsel, trying to focus. ‘The thing is, you probably don’t want to rush into anything.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Edsel paused. Why not? It was a good question. ‘Tell me, Lloyd, how did you get here?’ he asked, changing the subject.

  ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘Because you’ll forget.’

  ‘No I won’t.’

  ‘Trust me, you probably will. And then you’ll wish you’d told someone so they could remind you.’

  Lloyd frowned. ‘All right,’ he said slowly. ‘Um … I went into the back shed.’ Then he stopped and looked at Edsel.

  ‘That’s it? Why?’

  ‘To look for some glue.’

  ‘Go on.’

  Lloyd sighed, as if Edsel should have already known this. ‘My dad wasn’t suppose to have anything to drink. That’s what the judge said.’

  ‘The judge?’

  ‘Yeah. He said that if Dad kept drinking, I’d get taken away, even if it was because of my mum’s accident.’

  ‘You’d get taken away from your dad?’

  ‘Yeah. The judge just said that I would be in danger or something, and that would mean that Evie would have to come and take me away.’

  ‘Who’s Evie? Is she your mum?’

  ‘No, my mum’s dead. Evie’s from the Service. She drives a white car, and she’s always got a pen and a notepad. And a briefcase. Plus she looks at me like this,’ he said, tilting his head to one side and giving Edsel a smile that involved all of his mouth but neither of his eyes. It reminded him of Graham, with the hiking boots and orange socks.

  ‘Is Evie a … counsellor?’ Edsel asked.

  Lloyd was very matter-of-fact in his answer. ‘Yeah, I think so, or maybe a social thingy. And then I went into the shed.’

  Edsel frowned. This was becoming a very confusing story. ‘Lloyd, what was in the shed?’

  ‘Bottles. Lots of bottles, full of … well, beer, I think. I’m pretty sure my dad’s been making beer in the shed. And then, just as I saw them, the shed door closed, and when I opened it again, there was the silver guy.’

  ‘So your dad was told not to drink or he’d lose you?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Doesn’t that make you sad?’

  Lloyd shrugged. ‘Not yet. Hey, is that a real beach?’

  Edsel smiled. ‘Yeah, close enough,’ he said.

  Edsel turned off the shower and groped around for his towel. Then, as he dried himself, he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

  What he saw was the same as he’d seen in that mirror every day since he’d come to Verdada. How many days was that? He didn’t know. But it was the same person, the same Edsel, the same boy he’d seen drying himself off in that mirror so many times before. Not growing. Not changing. Not turning into a grown-up. The same, always the same.

  ‘Forever young,’ he said aloud. ‘Forever Young in a place of Forever Fun.’

  Somehow it didn’t sound like it once had, and with a silent sigh, Edsel flicked off the bathroom light.

  It had been a slow day in the sorting room. G22 was a cubicle that dealt exclusively with ballpoint pens, and with the exception of the day he’d spent handling paper clips and hole punches, it had been the most boring morning Edsel had known since he’d come to Verdada. He’d been working so slowly, in fact, that the other two kids who’d started at the same time as him had already left for the handball courts.

  He’d just re-allocated a blue Ezy-Flo Extra Fine so that a New York cab driver wouldn’t bend down to recover it from under his feet, look away from the road and flatten a lawyer on Fifth Avenue, and was reaching for his last box when he saw a card lying at the bottom of the crate.

  He picked up the card. It was empty, except for a barcode, and some letters and numbers – GRA-0102N3 – followed by one important-looking word: CLASSIFIED.

  He glanced around the cubicle, and through the glass walls into other cubicles. He’d been very slow today. The place was almost deserted.

  Unsure of what he should do next, he picked up his scanner and scanned the barcode. The little screen hesitated, then after a flickering moment, a face appeared.

  It was the face of a girl.

  It was a face he recognised.

  The face was Jacq’s.

  Edsel sat back hard in his chair, his chest thumping. He felt the space between his shoulder blades go hot, then cold. There could be no doubt about it. She wasn’t wearing her helmet, but it was definitely her. And below the picture was he
r name. GRAVES, Jacqueline Felicity.

  He glanced around the cubicle again. No one had appeared. No alarms had sounded and no lights had flashed, so he quickly scrolled down to the details page. The next words he read made him swear quietly under his breath: UNAUTHORISED – ACCESS NOT ALLOWED FOR THIS USER.

  He sat back again. Think quick, Grizzler, he thought. What do you do now?

  Trying to control his breathing, he slipped the card into his pocket and quickly scanned the last box in the crate. It was a pen that a lady in Perth needed in order to write her shopping list, and after he’d chosen Return to place last seen, pending steps retraced, he placed the unopened box on the conveyor, signed off and hurried out to look for Jacq.

  As usual, he found her at the skate park, sitting on her board as she waited for her turn.

  ‘Jacq.’

  ‘Hey. How was pens? Boring?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Nothing interesting?’

  He thought for a moment about how he should answer. Then, after a moment, he leaned closer and muttered, ‘My room, five minutes.’

  She frowned up at him. ‘Huh?’

  ‘Five minutes. I’m serious.’

  She knocked on his door about three and a half minutes later. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked. ‘You look shocking! Are you all right?’

  ‘Come in. Hurry!’ Edsel closed the door behind her. ‘I think you should sit down, Jacq,’ he said, as he went to the window. He saw Toby by the skate park, so he knew they wouldn’t be disturbed.

  Jacq was perched on the end of his bed, a frightened frown tensing her brow. ‘What is it? You’re scaring me.’

  ‘I found something,’ he said, handing her the card, and she looked at it blankly.

  ‘And … ?’

  ‘I scanned it.’

  ‘You scanned it? Are you crazy? It’s classified – it says so right here on the card! Where did you even get it?’

  ‘It was in my crate.’

  ‘Are you in trouble?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘I really don’t know.’

  ‘So, what did it say when you scanned it?’