Who Goes Home?

by Sylvia Waugh

  The door is sealed.

  ‘Open it! Open it now and let me out!’

  We do not have the technology.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  The door is sealed. The spaceship is on the point of departure.

  Jacob flung himself at the place where the door should have been, but that was guesswork. There was now no evidence of any door at all. The ship was plunged into near darkness – even the Cube blanked out. In the base of the ship, on the laboratory side, the clock appeared huge, its stars and its wand the only visible light against black velvet.

  Jacob stood gazing down at it, shocked into silence. He now understood completely that there was no going back. He could not even make any further appeal to the Cube, because it was no longer visible. All he could see was the clock, the wand a runnel full of stars.

  He went on standing there, feeling chilled in the darkness, unable to think. Tears rolled down his cheeks, although he was not sobbing. He was not even fully aware of being sad. For more than an hour he remained as still as a statue with no idea what he should do. He was afraid, deeply afraid, but it became a waiting fear, without direction.

  Then suddenly there was motion; an upward thrust sent Jacob reeling back on to the sofa, where he huddled in terror. ‘I want my mother,’ he cried. ‘I want my mother.’

  It took an hour of Earth time for the take-off to settle. Then the lights in the ship came back on, the ship’s internal gravity asserted itself, and the Cube glowed green again.

  You are travelling into space, Javayl ban. Have no fear.

  The fox was no more than a metre away when the soil was scattered and the spaceship broke out from its prison and was flung miles up into the air, leaving briefly behind it a streak of blue light. The animal crouched down and whimpered, his ears sharp points against the side of his head. His fear was short-lived. Within less than a minute, he had recovered enough for curiosity to take him to the edge of the small hole the ship had made. He sniffed anxiously, scrabbled with his front paws, gulped down an earthworm, then sensibly gave up on the whole business and went on with his hunting.

  CHAPTER 41

  * * *

  So Much to Tell

  Steven did not sleep. He did not even nod. His eyes were on the screen, waiting for the moment of departure. Though what that would tell him goodness knows. He tried to see inside the ship, but that power was gone. All his abilities seemed to be diminishing. The picture on the screen was what the Brick chose to show him. No amount of manipulation would change the image.

  The graveyard was barely discernible. The sky above it was dark with a hint of orange at its horizons from the streetlamps and the distant lights of London. Steven tried from time to time to change the image, to home in on the railings, to redirect the viewer. But it was of no avail. The machine was well and truly locked.

  At two o’clock precisely, he saw exactly what he had been looking for: a spark of light came out of the grave like a soul ascending and whizzed off into the sky.

  Now, surely now, the Brick would communicate. There must be things to tell.

  The screen went blank.

  It stayed blank for thirty minutes.

  Steven pushed the lever and tried speaking to it again. ‘What is happening? I need to know what is happening!’

  Nothing.

  ‘Who is inside the spaceship?’

  Silence.

  ‘What is my function now?’

  YOU HAVE NO FUNCTION

  It was a relief to see words appear on the screen. Even words as icy as these. They were, after all, a real answer to his question. The subject was open to argument, or so it seemed.

  ‘Everyone has a function. I am here and I am alive.’

  The reply to this remark was no reply at all. Within seconds, words appeared on the screen that hit him as if he had been struck a real and very heavy blow.

  YOUR SON IS SAFE. WE SHALL CARE FOR HIM

  Steven sat back in his chair and felt shivers run from head to foot. What did this mean? He knew what it might mean, but what it might mean was impossible. Surely it was impossible?

  He ran down the stairs to Jacob’s room, flung open the door, and shut his eyes in a swift prayer that his son would be lying sound asleep in bed. He wasn’t. The bedclothes were ruffled as after a nightmare. Gasping, Steven raced back up to the computer room.

  ‘Where is my son?’ he demanded of the Brick. ‘What do you know of him?’

  JAVAYL IS SAFE WITH US. HE IS OUR MOST TREASURED TRAVELLER

  ‘In the spaceship?’ said Steven, his voice a harsh whisper.

  JAVAYL TRAVELS TO ORMINGAT. THERE WILL HIS HOME BE

  ‘His home is here on Earth,’ said Steven angrily. ‘Return him to us at once.’

  WE DO NOT HAVE THE TECHNOLOGY

  ‘Return to me command of the system,’ said Steven. ‘I shall produce the technology.’

  TOO FAR AWAY. OUT OF RANGE

  Another thought came to Steven. ‘Did my son go with you from choice? Did he want to go?’

  The Brick paused a long time, its screen not dead but simply pearl grey.

  ‘Come on,’ said Steven. ‘I deserve an answer.’

  HE IS AN ACCIDENTAL TRAVELLER. THE DOORS SEALED AND COULD NOT BE OPENED. NO CRUELTY IS MEANT. IF WE KNEW HOW TO RETURN HIM TO YOU WE WOULD

  ‘What am I to tell Lydia?’ said Steven, looking down desperately at his own hands. ‘What am I to tell her?’

  The screen cleared and in a short while another message scrolled into view.

  YOUR SON HAS ABSCONDED. YOU KNOW NOT WHERE. THAT IS ALL THE EARTHLING NEEDS TO KNOW. THAT IS ALL SHE MUST EVER BE TOLD. BE LOYAL TO ORMINGAT IN THIS IF NOTHING ELSE

  Angrily, Steven rammed the screen down into the base behind the Brick. ‘I was talking to myself, object, not to you,’ he said harshly. ‘If I am no longer Ormingatrig I am no longer subject to your commands.’

  To say that he never had been subject to anyone’s commands would, at this point, be less than kind. The poor man was at his wits’ end. His troubles were manifold. He had lost his son. He would have, somehow, to help his wife through this loss. And, suddenly feeling close to Matthew, he was also aware of having lost his own special place in the universe. Even if he managed to become fully committed to Earth, he would only ever be Earthling by adoption.

  I have made a mess of everything, he thought. Entesh, Argule. I do not know how to cope with this.

  Eventually, after sitting slumped in his chair for at least another two hours, he got up and resolutely left the room without a further glance towards the Brick.

  I shall tell Lydia everything.

  On his way downstairs Steven looked once more into Jacob’s room, hoping against hope to find his son safe in his own bed. This time his gaze wandered from the empty bed to the rest of the room.

  Jacob’s clothes of the day before were neatly folded on the usual chair. His trainers were on the floor beside them. Hanging on the inside of the door was his dressing gown. So what was he wearing? A full change of clothing? A different pair of shoes?

  Steven pulled back the sheets and lifted the pillow.

  His pyjamas aren’t here.

  Has he gone out into the night wearing only his pyjamas?

  He sat down on the side of Jacob’s bed, gripping the mattress with each hand as if trying desperately to find something to hold on to.

  It’s no use. I shall tell Lydia everything. We’ll have to work it out together.

  He slipped into the room where she was still sleeping.

  ‘Lydia,’ he said, in a loud whisper. ‘Wake up, Lydia. There are things we need to talk about. Terrible things, and – oh, I am so sorry!’

  Lydia sat up and swept her hair out of her eyes. She yawned as she made the effort to shake off sleep. ‘What is it?’ she said. ‘What time is it? It can’t be morning already.’

  ‘No, my love,’ said Steven, taking her hand gently in his. ‘It is not five o’clock yet. But you must wake up and listen. I have
so much to tell you and I hardly know how to begin.’

  CHAPTER 42

  * * *

  The Cube

  Jacob fell into a deep sleep from which he did not awake for several days. Ormingat knew how to cope with his pain and his terror. This was also the first stage of his conversion. Over the next three years he would become Ormingatrig, body and mind, though his soul would remain unchanged and unchangeable, as all souls are.

  When enough time had elapsed, he stirred and stretched and came awake on the sofa. The first thing he saw was the Cube, tilted as if it were looking down at him.

  I am artefact, non-sentient being.

  Jacob looked up fuzzily, heard the words but did not quite believe them. In this terrible situation, still half-asleep, it seemed to him that the Cube was his only hope.

  ‘Help me,’ he said. ‘I want to go home.’

  Sentient beings have programmed me to help you. I am to give you all you need, even love. For this journey I am your mother and father, your teacher and your friend. Call me Camballash.

  Jacob was fully awake now and the words of the Cube seemed filled with the assumption that all ties with Earth could be readily broken. A boy can sleep curled up like a baby, but in waking time he is nearer to being a man.

  ‘I am fourteen years old,’ he said angrily, standing up and squaring his shoulders. ‘I am not a child to give a name to a doll.’

  The Cube ceased to tilt and its colour faded to the palest green. I am not a doll.

  ‘Turn this ship round and take me home,’ said Jacob in as commanding a voice as he could manage. His whole body trembled as he spoke, but the words came out firm and clear. He knew almost for certain what the answer would be, but he was determined to make the Cube understand that its offer of friendship was no solution. A speaking cube was a poor replacement for his mother, his father and his sisters. Give me all I need? Give me love? Who do you think you are?

  The Cube tilted once more and its voice when it spoke seemed to convey emotion. We have not the technology. For you were the wrong time and place. We would never willingly have given unhappiness. If were the possibility we would return you.

  In its errors, the non-sentient artefact sounded distressed. Was the distress built in? Was it part of the program?

  Jacob sat down again and, resting his elbows on his knees, held his head between his hands. He felt guilty at having got himself into this situation. He thought of his mother, with all her quirky ways and fear of the outside world. It was so wrong to give her cause to weep. His father was more of a puzzle. Might he be glad that the ship was not returning empty? What would his sisters think about his disappearance? What would they be told?

  The one thing he did not fed was fear for his own survival. The Cube gave him that reassurance at least. This was a journey and it would end, and at the end of it he would still be alive.

  Accept, Javayl ban. There is no use to refuse. I am your friend. I am Camballash. I am to give, not to take. We cannot turn back, but forward is good.

  Jacob looked up. He had gone over the edge of fear. The trembling suddenly left him and he knew the calmness of despair. There was no way out. If his heart should break, if he should beat the walls with his fists, or jump high enough to smash the Cube, it would make no difference. The sleeping days had toughened him and he was fast learning how to cope, since cope he must.

  He looked around the ship, appraising it as living quarters. His father had told him that the journey from Ormingat to Earth took three years. There was no reason to think that the return journey would be any shorter. Three years in solitary confinement, flying through space, was in itself a difficult idea to handle. How would it be managed? On a purely practical level it seemed impossible. What about food and drink? And what about the bathroom? He was suddenly aware that he was still dressed in pyjamas. As if in answer to these thoughts, the Cube spoke again.

  All is here for your requirements. Doors open. Cupboards have clothes. There is kitchen and bathroom as on Earth behind doors. There is all you need, Javayl.

  Jacob looked behind him at the curved wall of the Earth ‘room’ where he was sitting. Where the doors were was not clear. He was sufficiently interested to stand up and investigate further. That helped. As he walked towards the wall, a door slid open and within the recess he saw a bedroom very much like his own. As he turned to his left, the first door closed and another door opened to reveal a kitchen. Already he had enough of his new being working inside him to appreciate that this, though practical, was probably governed by illusion.

  Accept everything. Questions can come later. This works.

  ‘For now,’ said Jacob.

  He spent hours after this exploring the possibilities of his new accommodation. He had a shower. He changed into day clothes – just a normal sweatshirt and jeans. Everything was there and everything fitted. He helped himself to cheese from the fridge and biscuits from the barrel. Then he made a pot of coffee.

  ‘This is a sort of dream,’ he said to the Cube, ‘isn’t it?’

  The Cube did not answer.

  ‘This coffee won’t last three years,’ he said, smiling as his father would have done. ‘So it has to be dream coffee, or else I’ll run out long before we get there.’

  Accept everything. Questions can come later. This works.

  Now that Jacob had taken charge of himself, he felt in some way that he had also taken charge of the spaceship. The words of the Cube became clearer. He remembered his father’s irritation when he had called the Cube ‘friendly’. But now, if ever, was the time for anthropomorphism.

  ‘Very well,’ said Jacob. ‘Be my friend. I’ll call you “Cam”. That other name you gave me is a bit of a mouthful.’

  Accepted. I am to be known as Cam.

  Jacob sat back on the sofa and took stock of his situation. I am not asleep. This is not a dream. But it is somehow a different sort of reality.

  Sleep again. In sleep you draw nearer to what you should be. In sleep you shall learn.

  Jacob yawned. ‘Shall I go to bed?’ he said. ‘Or shall I sleep here?’

  The Cube did not reply.

  ‘Cam,’ said Jacob. ‘Where shall I sleep?’

  Choose, Javayl ban. The choice is yours.

  ‘Do my parents know where I am?’ said Jacob sleepily. ‘They must be worried about me. Surely my father could use the Brick to get me back.’

  There was no answer. Cam had not heard of the Brick. This name for the protection module was not in the program. The communicator was not equipped to ask for clarification.

  As Jacob stretched out on the sofa, he knew that this was no more than a token protest, a dutiful idea. Already he was accepting, as Cam had told him to accept. His soul would always be his own, wherever he might find himself, but his mind and body were changing. And the change felt good.

  CHAPTER 43

  * * *

  The Brick

  Steven’s revelations left Lydia stunned. He had told her absolutely everything. Together they checked Jacob’s room, ransacked it almost, and came to the conclusion that he must indeed have gone out clad only in his pyjamas.

  ‘He could be sleepwalking,’ said Lydia. ‘We should go out and look for him.’

  ‘We know he is not sleepwalking,’ said Steven gently. ‘Neither is he lost. He is in a spaceship travelling out of this solar system into another. We know that.’

  ‘You know that,’ said Lydia, but her protest had no strength in it.

  ‘We know that,’ said Steven.

  She could not contradict him.

  The story Steven had just told her had begun with the mativil and how it had saved Jacob’s life. There had been something very decisive about that. It now seemed to her that her son had been hers ‘on loan’. It was as if the earthly Jacob had died all those years ago, and she had been given some sort of changeling. He is not flesh of my flesh. Yet nothing in the whole of creation could alter the fact that she was his mother and had reared him from babyhood. />
  They went silently down to the sitting room, where they sat together on the settee. The room was in semi-darkness, lit only by the table lamp. Upstairs, the twins would be sleeping.

  ‘I want to see the Brick,’ said Lydia. ‘I do believe you – why would you want to lie to me? – but I must see the Brick at work.’

  ‘I don’t know if it will work for you – I mean, in your presence. It can be temperamental at the best of times,’ said Steven doubtfully. He was reluctant to make the attempt. He was not sure whether the protection module would know that there was an illegal observer watching the screen.

  ‘I won’t speak,’ said Lydia, knowing the thoughts her husband had not put into words. ‘I’ll sneak in quietly and won’t even move till you have done all that needs to be done.’

  They walked furtively up the two flights of stairs, trying their best to let no stair creak. It was important not to wake the twins.

  Steven opened the door to the computer room and sat Lydia down in the armchair, turning it very carefully so that it would face the screen. The only light would be the lamp on the desk, so she would be hidden in shadow.

  He sat down in front of the Brick, unscrolled the screen, pressed the buttons to give him a visual image, and waited. At first the screen was entirely blank and he half expected to see no more than a farewell message, if that.

  Then suddenly, there was a picture of the inside of the spaceship. All was still. On the sofa. Jacob was lying curled up and fast asleep.

  Lydia craned forward and gasped involuntarily. Steven turned towards her for a second, no more, and put one finger to his lips. When he turned back, the screen was blank again. Fiercely he pulled the lever that would allow him to speak to the module.

  ‘What happened to the picture?’ he said. ‘I want to see my son.’

  OUT OF RANGE

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Steven. ‘We have just seen him.’

  WHO ARE WE?

  ‘You have seen him,’ said Steven rapidly. ‘I have seen him. You and I are “we”.’