by James Roy
‘Maybe that’s true. But being lost twice means that more people are affected by me not being there.’
The figure paused. ‘Both Richard and the Charter must have explained to you that the passage of time back there is very different from the passage of time here. They’re not even aware of your absence.’
‘My parents mightn’t be, but the lady who gave birth to me is,’ Edsel replied. ‘I think I’d like to mend things with her as well.’
As he said this, the faces of the Mira turned to one another, muttering, conferring, and Edsel wondered if he’d said the wrong thing.
‘So your intention is to undermine the decisions made by Verdada?’ asked the figure who’d done all the talking so far.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Verdada processed the infant Robert Armandine some time ago. You don’t think a satisfactory job was performed?’
Edsel paused, his mind spinning. Finally he said, ‘I just want to go home and make things right.’
‘Even though you were made fully aware of the conditions, and were given ample time to decide? What makes you so special?’
‘Nothing. Nothing makes me more special than anyone else. I guess anyone else could come here and ask as well.’
‘And they would almost certainly be denied.’
Edsel took another deep breath. This seemed to be going very badly.
‘Let’s assume that the Mira consider sending you back,’ said the figure. ‘What happens to the balance then?’
Jacq spoke up. ‘That’s why I’m here. I’m offering to … to move on from Verdada. Then I wouldn’t be …’ She stopped. ‘I don’t really know how to say it. If I moved on, I wouldn’t be taking up space back there. And that would make room for … for Robert to go back.’
‘By dying, in other words.’
‘Yes, I suppose that’s what it would be,’ Jacq admitted.
‘Why not the other way around?’ asked another of the Mira, third from the right-hand end, in a voice that was more like wet gravel than sand. ‘Why doesn’t Robert let you go back, Jacqueline?’
‘Because he’d have to just die,’ Jacq replied. ‘And no one should have to see their kid drop dead. But my parents have seen me in a coma for months now. It’s painful for them, just as it’s painful for me, to see me just lying there, day after day. If I die, they move on, and I … I move on as well.’ Edsel glanced over at his friend, and saw that her eyes were welling up with tears. One grew large and heavy and spilled down her face. ‘If I don’t have any other choice, I’ll take my chances with wherever you send me next, so long as I know that Robert can go back. And that way, my parents get to let me go. You’d be doing it for them as well.’
‘The Mira could easily send an infant to replace you,’ said yet another of the Mira, and as he heard the figure say this, Edsel felt a catch in his chest, like a hook through his heart.
Jacq nodded. ‘You could send a baby, but … but we’re asking you not to.’
‘We’re asking very politely,’ Edsel added. ‘Please.’
‘Jacqueline, the Mira could do it after you were gone, and you’d never know,’ said the Mira with the sandy voice.
‘Yes, but I don’t think you will. I know you won’t.’
‘And you’re certain that this is what you want?’
Jacq swallowed hard. ‘I am,’ she said, in a strong voice that cracked slightly, just at the end.
‘And you, Robert? This is a great and generous gesture that is being offered to you.’
‘I know. I know. It’s huge. And if you say yes, I promise I’ll do better. I’ll make sure my parents never lose me again.’
‘Which parents?’
‘All of them,’ Edsel replied.
The figure in the middle turned to the others, first to the left, then the right. Then it levelled its gaze on Edsel and Jacq. ‘The Mira will confer. You should return to the Domus and wait there.’
The lights over the figures faded away, and feeling a presence behind him, Edsel turned to see Man standing there in front of the bright open doorway.
They left the Hub, walking silently across the lawn, following Man. Edsel was the first to speak. ‘Are you sure we’ve done the right thing?’
‘It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?’
‘I know, but are you sure?’
‘Yes. Don’t ask me again.’
‘But you don’t know where—’
‘Don’t ask me again.’
‘Are you scared?’
‘Excited. I’m excited.’
‘Your parents will be sad.’
‘They’ve already lost me.’
Ben was waiting in the corridor, outside his room. ‘Hi,’ he said as Jacq and Edsel approached. ‘How did it go?’
‘How did you know it was us coming up the hall?’ Edsel asked.
Ben looked at him like he’d just asked the stupidest question in the world. ‘Jacq’s right foot hits the ground a tiny bit harder than her left, and your nose whistles when you breathe.’
‘It does?’ Edsel listened to his breathing. He couldn’t hear anything unusual.
‘Yes, it does. So, how did it go?’ Ben asked again, opening the door for them to enter his room.
‘Well, it’s done,’ Edsel told him. ‘And I know you don’t approve, Ben, but thanks for your help anyway.’
A quick smile flickered across Ben’s face. ‘So they said yes?’
‘Not yet.’
‘They’re going to call me when they’ve decided,’ Jacq said, from where she stood by the window, and Edsel heard her heave a huge sigh.
‘But we’re not allowed to talk about it,’ he quickly added.
Ben came all the way in and closed the door behind him, before feeling his way over to a chair. ‘We’re not allowed to talk about it?’
‘No.’
‘Well, you know, I doubt we’d be allowed to hack into Verdada’s main system using fractal flames as an auditory interface either, but that didn’t stop us.’
‘Good point,’ agreed Jacq. Then she rested the palms of her hands and her forehead against the glass. ‘I’m going to miss this,’ she sighed. ‘I wonder if the other place is nicer or … not.’
‘It’ll be nicer once you’re there,’ Edsel said, in a very quiet voice, but it was loud enough for Jacq to hear, and she turned to smile at him.
‘You’re sweet. I think I’m going to miss you.’
‘All right, that’s enough of that,’ Ben said, faking a big sniff. ‘You’ll make me cry in a minute. So, any clues about this other place, or how they’re going to do it, or anything like that? If they do it.’
‘No,’ Jacq replied. Then she sat on the edge of her bed. ‘It’s exciting, I suppose, possibly going to a new place.’
‘Is this one getting boring?’ Ben asked.
‘No, not really. But I feel like I’ve done pretty much everything I can. I’ve even mastered the seven-twenty air grab, so …’
‘How would you get there?’ Ben asked.
‘I don’t know.’
A knock sounded at the door, loud within the room, and they fell silent, casting glances back and forth. Then Ben stood up. ‘It’s Man,’ he said. ‘That silver suit of his squeaks when he walks.’
‘Graves, comma, Jacqueline,’ Man said, when Ben had opened the door.
‘And me?’ Edsel asked.
‘No. Alone.’
Jacq smiled tightly. ‘All righty,’ she said, standing up. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Well, see you soon,’ Edsel said.
‘Hear you soon,’ said Ben.
‘Yeah. In a minute.’ Then she turned and followed Man along the corridor.
‘So, I wonder what they’ll say,’ Edsel mused, after a moment.
Ben shook his head. ‘Impossible to know.’
‘You couldn’t just crack into the—’
‘No.’
‘Fair enough.’ Edsel sighed. ‘She seemed nervous.’
‘Yeah, of course she
did. I would be too.’
‘I am. If they give her the go-ahead, then I’m next. Oh no!’ he suddenly exclaimed. ‘What if that was the last time we ever saw her? I didn’t say a proper goodbye or anything. She did this for me, and I never got a chance to thank her!’
‘She knew, Edsel. She knew you were grateful.’
‘I hope so.’
‘She was a good friend.’
‘Was? She is,’ Edsel replied. Then he shook his head. ‘This has been an amazing experience, you know. Sometimes I’ve found it really hard to remember who I am. But I think it’s coming back a bit now.’
‘So, who are you? Tell me.’
‘I’m Edsel Grizzler, son of Barry and Tilda Grizzler, who lives at Number 58, Bland Street, West Malaise. That’s who I am. And you?’
Ben smiled. ‘I’m … I’m Ben, the blind kid who’s good with computers.’
‘You can’t remember any more than that?’
‘Not really. At least, that’s as much as I want to remember. Hey, have you thought about how this might affect the others here?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If word gets out that they’ve bent the rules for you … I mean, what if others thought they could do it too?’
‘People like you?’
Ben shook his head. ‘I told you, I’m staying. I’ve made my choice.’
‘Yes, but it’s a choice you wish you hadn’t made, like me!’
‘But you can go back and make it right. I don’t think I ever can.’
‘Sure you can! You could go back and—’ Edsel was interrupted by another knock at the door.
‘That was quick,’ Ben said. ‘It’s Man again.’
Sure enough, the figure in the silver suit was waiting in the hallway. ‘Armandine, comma, Robert,’ he said.
‘What happened to Jacq? To Graves, comma, Jacqueline?’
‘I can’t tell you that,’ Man replied. ‘Please, come immediately, with your copy of the Charter of Verdada. Richard is waiting.’
Ben held out his hand, which Edsel shook. ‘If this is it, Edsel, it’s been a pleasure.’
‘Thank you for your help. I hope I’ll see you again, Ben.’
‘Maybe.’
‘You shouldn’t be afraid to try and get back.’
‘It’s comfortable here. I know my way around, even without eyes.’
‘You could learn your way around back there as well. Hey, can you do me another favour? Can you make sure Toby looks after Bob?’
‘Sure.’ Ben smiled then, and turned his eyes towards the window. ‘You’d better go,’ he said. ‘They’re waiting.’
The turret room at the top of the Hub was dimly lit, with the windows blacked out like soot. Richard was already there, waiting on one of the couches. He didn’t look up as Edsel entered but simply said, ‘Please, sit down.’
Swallowing hard, Edsel sat, and heard the door close behind him.
‘Richard, about Jacq …’
‘I can’t tell you,’ Richard replied.
‘Because you don’t know?’
‘Oh, I know, Robert. But I can’t tell you.’
‘Okay, but can you just tell me this much: is she safe?’
‘Her journey was peaceful and not at all traumatic.’
Edsel sighed with relief. ‘Oh, that’s good.’
‘We do hope you appreciate what she did.’
‘I do,’ Edsel replied. ‘I really do. And the Mira. Is it possible to thank them?’
‘Personally?’ said Richard. ‘Oh no, they show themselves very rarely. No, you shan’t see them again. But I’ll be sure to pass on your thanks. And now there’s only one thing left to do.’ He leaned forward and picked up an orange envelope from the chest between them and handed it to Edsel. It had a large number 4 on the front. ‘Open the envelope, Robert.’
Edsel opened one end and slipped out a card from within. To one corner was pinned a photo of himself, and some text was printed on the card.
1 × boy, Robert Henry Armandine. Generally good health, alert mind. Last seen: front garden of 58 Bland Street, West Malaise. Required for: being a son, Edsel, to Barry and Tilda Grizzler, of the same address.
Recommendations:
□ 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
Edsel felt tears pricking at the backs of his eyes as he looked up at Richard. ‘It’s me,’ he said.
‘It is. I apologise that we have to do it the old-fashioned way, with the card and the pencil, but there is no procedure in place within our system to allow what you and your friend proposed.’
‘I see.’
‘No, you don’t. There’s a pencil on the table in front of you.’
Edsel picked up the pencil. ‘Now?’
‘Is there anything else you need to do?’
Edsel shook his head.
‘Then tick the appropriate box. And remember—’
‘I know – there’s no coming back.’
‘Tick the box.’
And with a deeply held breath, Edsel took the pencil, rested its tip in the square beside Return to place last seen, pending steps retraced, and made a tick.
He let his breath out all in one rush. ‘Done,’ he said.
Richard reached out for the card, then turned it over, glanced at it, and laid it on the top of the chest. ‘Very good. So it’s done. Did you bring the Charter?’
‘Here.’ Edsel placed it on the chest, next to the card.
‘Thank you,’ Richard said. ‘Now, it’s important that you stay seated until the procedure is over.’
‘Procedure?’
‘It will be peaceful. And not at all traumatic.’ Reaching into his coat pocket, Richard handed Edsel a pair of sunglasses. ‘And you might want to put these on – they’re your father’s, so make sure he gets them when you return.’
‘Um, what about the egg thing I came in?’
‘You shouldn’t question our science. You’re perfectly safe, provided you remain seated. Goodbye, Robert. I wish you all the best.’
Richard stood, turned and walked to the door, went through it, and as he kept walking, the door closed behind him. With the closing door came a deep, opaque darkness, and Edsel sat still, as he’d been instructed to do, trying to penetrate the blackness with his eyes.
Without any warning, there was a sudden blue flash, so bright that Edsel couldn’t see anything in the room, or around him at all. In fact, it was as if he’d gone blind, and at that moment he thought of Ben.
But then, gradually, his vision began to clear, and into his field of view appeared a joystick and a green button, and beyond that a shiny, clear surface, and beyond that a hedge, and lawn, and a letterbox, and a house, and a big, ugly, blue butterfly beside a security-mesh screen door.
Edsel was home.
Edsel stood in the middle of his front yard and looked around. He noticed for the first time that it was early spring, and that some of the shrubs in the garden were beginning to burst into bloom, as bees nosed about for nectar. And even though it was late afternoon and a very light breeze was blowing, his shoulders and face felt pleasantly warm. Next he looked at the butterfly beside the front door, and decided that it really was a very vivid and quite lovely shade of blue, even if it was huge, and quite ugly, and painted in a colour he felt sure appeared nowhere in nature. Perhaps this wasn’t such a terrible place to live after all.
From the kitchen drifted the warm smell of baking bread, and Edsel knew that he would soon be eating thick hot slices of bread with melty butter spread on them. His mouth was already watering at the thought.
He knew what he had to do, and stirring himself into action, he dashed upstairs, grabbed some money out of his little cash box and stuffed it into his pocket. Then he was back downstairs and ge
tting his bike from the garage. As he pulled on his helmet and fastened the chin strap, a thought of Jacq ran down the side of his mind, like a cheese-grater on knuckles. But he pushed the thought away as he climbed onto his bike and headed for Mr Waldon’s corner shop.
‘Hello, Edsel,’ Mr Waldon said as Edsel charged through the door.
‘What day is it?’
Mr Waldon frowned. ‘It’s Friday, and I’m about to close up. Why?’
‘Friday. Good. I need some flowers,’ Edsel panted.
‘I don’t have any cheapies today,’ Mr Waldon said. ‘As you can see, they’re all still in good condition.’
‘That’s okay. I want the best ones you’ve got. And lots of them.’
Mr Waldon raised his eyebrows. ‘Fair enough,’ he said, taking Edsel’s money and holding out the change.
Edsel waved it away. ‘Keep it,’ he said. ‘Bye – I’ve got some flowers to deliver.’
Mum narrowed her eyes when Edsel poked the huge bunch of flowers under her nose. ‘More flowers? What have you done?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘Nothing, Mum, honest. It’s just that you seemed to really like those roses I bought you the other day. So I got you another bunch.’
‘Oh, Edsel, that’s so thoughtful!’ Mrs Grizzler’s face changed from a suspicious frown into a warm smile.
‘And I missed you today, as well,’ Edsel added.
Now his mother was starting to cry. ‘Let me cut you some bread,’ she said. ‘It’s still hot.’
‘Thanks, Mum, that’d be nice. I’ll be back to get it in a couple of minutes.’
‘Where are you going now?’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘I need to know.’
Edsel sighed. ‘I’m just going over to see Kenny. I’ll be careful crossing the road.’ If only she knew where else I’d been, he thought.
He went back outside and looked at the Egg. It was such a wonderful thing, such a wonderful mysterious thing, but he knew what he should do. He half carried, half dragged the Egg across the street to Kenny’s front garden. Then he rang the doorbell.
Kenny answered the door, only speaking through the crack. ‘Oh, it’s you. What do you want?’ he asked, his voice tense, maybe even a little afraid.
‘I’ve been there too,’ Edsel answered. ‘I know all about the bright flash, and the round grey room, and the creepy guy in the silver suit, and … well, everything.’