by Ade Grant
“You’ve never been to a zoo?!” Grace exclaimed, listening despite running up the beach. She shook her head disapprovingly. “Oh dear, oh deary me.”
The four accompanying devils each hopped out of the boat and began sniffing about the sand, leaving criss-crossing tracks as they scouted. McConnell helped the Mariner drag the boat further up the bank to a spot where it would be safe from the tide. The reverend fell silent, worried and disappointed by the Mariner’s lack of clarity.
“Let’s go! Let’s go!”
“Grace!” the Mariner snapped, his anxiety once again surfacing as irritation. He lifted a finger to his mouth. Shhh.
The island was quiet, but not silent. A constant chatter of birds filled the canopy, their light chirping disarming, and although the young girl’s plea had been startlingly loud, she’d failed to interrupt the chorus. High above, a parrot dressed in glorious reds and greens glided lazily, totally unperturbed by the island’s new guests.
That’ll soon change, the Mariner thought as he looked from the bird to his devils, who left long trails of drool beside their paw-prints.
The sand bank was small, no more than a short break amidst large outcrops of boulders, straddled by decaying vegetation. Further inland, the sand petered out into dry brown shade, beneath tall leafy trees and beyond them were the first cages Grace had spoken of, bars stretched out like spiders legs.
Suddenly, rising up through the canopy, echoed a chortling insane scream, lingering somewhere between a laugh and a wail. Fuelled by adrenaline, the Mariner drew his Mauser, pointing it into the shadows, searching for whatever madman had caused the sound. Only after squinting rapidly through all possible ambush points, did he notice his companions had made no similar reaction; Grace raised an eyebrow as if he were the one insane, and McConnell thinly concealed his mirth.
“It’s just a monkey.”
“A what?” The Mariner remained alert despite feeling increasingly foolish.
“A monkey, you know, oooh ooh ooh!” Grace turned her arms around until each reached into an armpit and hopped from foot to foot. Now it was the Mariner’s turn to presume madness.
Grace continued her impression, much to the confusion of the devils who were watching her with with interest, backing away as if she were an erratic echidna.
“Are they dangerous?”
“Not usually.” McConnell patted the Mariner’s shoulder. “I think you can put your gun away.”
“He’s right, you know.” The voice came from the rocks to their side and surprised even the devils. A man in grey robes sat watching them, stillness disguising him throughout their arrival. “You won’t need a weapon here.”
“Who are you?” The Mariner stepped forward and pointed his gun at the robed fellow. McConnell moved quickly to Grace, protectively putting his arms around her.
“Do you make a habit of entering people’s homes and demanding to know who they are?” the stranger asked, completely unconcerned by the gun aimed at his head. “Surely it would be more appropriate to first introduce yourself?”
“Do you make a habit of pissing off those who are armed?” the Mariner snorted, though equally this further threat failed to draw any reaction other than a patient smile.
It was McConnell who broke the stalemate, stepping around Grace and approaching the grey-robed figure. “I am the reverend McConnell, and this here is Grace Tetrazzini. We are from Sighisoara, the town this zoo used to be a part of. This man with us is the captain of the Neptune. We have come in peace and in the spirit of exploration. We mean you no harm.”
“I am pleased to meet you, reverend.” The robed man stood up and looked at each in turn. “Young lady. Captain.”
“Hi.” Grace gave a hesitant wave, but the Mariner refused to lower his guard.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Pryce, and on behalf of my people, I welcome you to our island.”
“It’s our island!” Having decided that this man was of no threat, Grace felt at ease offering the challenge.
Pryce nodded diplomatically. “Maybe it was young lady, and if so, it shall be again. Just as it is that after your future custodianship it will once more return to ours, and so on and so forth. Such is our doom. Such is our fate.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“I don’t know,” Pryce shrugged. “Some time. I’ve never heard of this ‘Sighisoara’ you speak of, does that help?”
“A little.”
“I am pleased to be bringing you so much understanding.” Pryce sighed contently and looked out across the waves, pleased with his contribution.
“Why aren’t you afraid?” The Mariner’s hostility broke the friendly atmosphere McConnell had nurtured. Pryce, his attention reluctantly drawn back from the ocean, looked at the Mariner with momentarily weary eyes.
“I am afraid. We all are. Who could live in a world this awful and not be? But with all the horrors of a world gone mad, should I really be afraid of a bullet in a gun? A man running from a wolf, is not going to jump at the sight of a spider, now is he?”
Grace piped up. “What if it was poisonous?”
“Then that would be a quick death, rather than the long hunt.” He walked slowly towards the Mariner, looking into his eyes, ignoring the Mauser completely. “The truth is, captain, that I am not afraid because we’ve met before.”
“I’ve never met you.”
“Oh yes you have,” Pryce made a smile that, although brimming with warmth and comfort, cooled the Mariner to his guts. “Countless times.” And, as if that settled the whole debate, Pryce turned and began walking up the beach towards to trees. “Come,” he called. “The Lady will wish to speak with you.”
The three were left standing in the sand behind, unsure whether to follow or not. Grace and McConnell looked to the Mariner for guidance, until he finally shrugged, holstered his weapon and began to follow. The devils too took this as a sign they could further explore and dashed ahead into the foliage.
Grinning, Grace once again exerted her motherly authority, “Percy! You behave, you hear?” But already they were gone, giddy with fresh scents and strange sounds, yapping and tumbling about in the leaves.
“What interesting creatures you bring. Any relation to the raccoon?” Pryce asked as they strolled.
The Mariner increased his pace until he was by the monk’s side. “They’re Tasmanian devils. The rest of the brood are back on the Neptune.” He thought carefully about what he wanted to share with Pryce; what exactly did he want this stranger to know? “They have made exceptional guards,” he finally chose to add.
“I don’t doubt it.”
“Grace said this was a zoo for animals. Do you not have any devils here?”
“I don’t know what this place used to be like, but when we arrived there was just..”
The Mariner waited for a moment for Pryce to finish, but the silence continued. “Just what?”
Pryce was staring off into space, not in a trance, but as if he was concentrating on solving an impossibly difficult mathematical equation. His eyes flicked back and forth and the faintest of whispered words graced his lips.
“Are you alright?”
As if in a fit, Pryce dropped to the floor and began to thrash.
“Waaaaaaaaaa! Wheeeeeee! Dagagaga!”
The Mariner threw himself away, tangling in a bush, trying to put some distance between him and the madman. The branches scraped at his skin. slowing his grasp for the Mauser.
“Mindless! He’s gone Mindless!”
McConnell’s face drained of colour and Grace screamed, but neither fled. There was something mesmerising about the strange display.
“Awwoooo! Awooooo! A-”
Just as suddenly as he’d started, Pryce stopped thrashing and screaming and sat up. Rather than the rage-filled face of a Mindless, his was racked with disappointment. “Bugger.”
Trembling with adrenaline filling his veins, the Mariner held out his hand. Pryce accepted it and rose to
his feet.
“What just happened? I thought you’d turned Mindless. I was about to put a bullet in your head!”
Pryce looked sheepishly at his startled guests.
“My apologies for scaring you, but I had no choice. You see, I was trying to save the world.”
26
THE SHIFT SEEKERS
BEFORE HIS VERBAL AND PHYSICAL explosion, Pryce had been about to inform his guests that whatever variety of beasts that had once lived within the zoo, all that remained were birds that came and went as they pleased and a colony of monkeys. The small humanoids followed the three strangers as they were led through the trees and empty cages. Occasionally, one would scamper over, probably intending to beg the strangers for food, but the devils gave firm growls, keeping the primates at bay.
As they wound further towards the zoo’s centre they spotted many of Pryce’s fellow islanders dressed in similar garb and each with the same serene expressions. These, however, were the only similarities shared. Age, sex and ethnicity varied widely and, like the monkeys, they watched from a distance, content with their idle curiosity without any motivation to intrude. They merely observed and then got back to tending crops.
The zoo felt more like an ancient kingdom than a centre for conservation. Plants had grown up around the dilapidated structures and rusty bars. Some had been preserved, though now converted for the monks’ use. McConnell peered inside what used to be an aquarium and saw the tanks drained and filled with candles. The floor was littered with rugs which monks sat upon in quiet contemplation. Other buildings hadn’t fared so well and had fallen under the thrall of the forest. Crumbled walls teemed with insects and fungi.
Finally, at the centre of the zoo, they came to an enormous pool. Straddling it was a wooden bridge leading to a small central platform supporting two enormous statues of dolphins, elongated faces majestic and noble. Under their shade sat a woman upon a wooden throne. She was large and imposing, and although she dressed in the same way as her followers, in simple grey cloth, she wore them as if they were the gowns of royalty.
“I was expecting you. Come!” she commanded, and the three were led across the bridge until they stood before her. The devils remained behind, unwilling to get near the clear pool, pacing back and forth nervously, faint mewing sounds in their throats.
Pryce bowed deeply. “Priestess, allow me to present the Reverend McConnell, Grace Tetrazzini and their guide, the Captain of the mighty Neptune!”
“Do you have a name?” the Priestess asked the Mariner with a smile.
“No. Do you?”
At this she laughed. “Very well. Thank you Pryce, that will be all.” Pryce nodded and departed, retreating back across the bridge and sitting with the devils who watched anxiously. “I am Diane Thyre, and it is my divine duty to guide the Monks of Déjà vu to their destiny.”
“The Monks of what?” McConnell, despite his earlier conciliatory nature, was becoming agitated by the culture about them. “That’s not a religion I’ve heard of.”
“We transcend religion, Reverend. This is about truth, not faith.”
“Christianity is the truth. We live in the end of days, the Shattering, God’s punishment for our sins!”
Diane suddenly burst into laughter, raising a hand to stifle her giggles. Her mockery sent McConnell bright red. “Is that what you think? Oh you poor man, what God would do this? Oh no. It were no God.”
“Then what did?” he growled.
“My good sir, a demon of course! A demon did this. Our world’s in the clasp of a creature not native to our own. It exists beyond our sight, beyond comprehension, taking us one by one. Destroying all we hold dear.”
“The Wasp?”
Her superior laughter stopped dead in her throat and Diane turned her attention to the Mariner. His studious expression held and did not waiver.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Demons do not have a need for names, names are things of man. Yet this one sounds… familiar.” Her thoughts congregated into a deep frown, but then a moment later she shrugged them off with ease. “What am I saying? Of course it would! We have met many times and you have told me this before. Please, sit, and I shall explain.”
The day was warm and pleasant and the three found no problem at all sitting in the grass and listening to the lady speak. Even McConnell, who’d taken exception to his own faith being discounted so quickly, listened in silence.
“Imagine the tale of your life as a wheel,” she began. “It is written from conception to death along the entire circumference. It contains all your achievements, all your failures. Hopes and dreams are painted there, just as your betrayals, travels, loves and losses. It seems so important to you, this journey you make as the wheel turns, but it is not. For the wheel continues turning, playing your life over and over. You’re born, you die, you’re born again, and with each revolution, you forget all that has come before, only to play out the exact same life, over and over, down to the precise thought.
“Except, we don’t quite forget everything,” she said, eyes lighting up. “Sometimes memories of these past cycles creep in, they seep through into our consciousness. These are the experiences known as Déjà vu. As Déjà vu unfolds, you remember the exact experience, the movements you make, the thoughts you think, the moment in its entirety.”
The Mariner nodded along with her story. He’d observed such moments before, the feeling of experiencing something for a second time, not any particularly important event, just going about his duties upon the Neptune. It was curious to learn the name for such a thing.
“Now let’s return to this wheel that is our life,” she continued, clearly pleased to have an audience. “Imagine that it is not a wheel of a cart, but a cog in a clock. Your cog is connected to my cog, as is mine to many others. We are all tiny cogs repeating over and over, driving one much larger. This great cog is time itself, our reality, our events. Somehow a demon has manipulated this cog, he’s taken it within his grip and has dragged us off course, into misery and despair.
“But there is one way we can wrestle it from his hands. We need to send a shock-wave, a jolt, a shift, through the many to the main, juddering the great cog back onto its proper course.”
“And how is that done?” the Mariner asked. “It seems this ‘Cog’ is not something we can touch or feel. How do we shift it?”
“Through Déjà vu,” she replied, body puffed up like a toad. “If we can change our turn of the wheel, be it on the second or billionth revolution, if for the first time in these cycles we do something different, then this will send a jolt from our wheel, through the entire machine, shifting the Great Cog back onto its proper course!”
Diane examined each of their faces, eager for their response. McConnell, though enjoying the story, remained unconvinced, unlike Grace whose mouth hung open in wonder. The Mariner was somewhere between, sceptical yet curious. “What’s the problem then? Just do it so we can have our lives back.”
She shook her head sadly. “No-one has yet managed to. I counsel my followers to do anything, the more unpredictable the better, to change the present experience from the course set by their returning memory. So when Déjà vu strikes they shriek, leap, roll, sing, anything as long as it’s as random as they can conceive. The problem is the memory returns just as they act, and in retrospect it always turns out they remember shrieking, leaping, rolling and singing. Never once has this revolution proved different. But one day someone will manage it, and the world will be saved.
“Obviously, the more within our flock attempting this miracle, the more likely we are to succeed. That is why you shall join us.”
“We shall?!” McConnell snorted.
“Of course. You must and you will.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I used to live within a community of salvagers; we sailed the seas looking for wreaks. We’d strip them for parts and trade for food and drink. One day we were hit by a terrible storm. Great waves threatened to swallow us i
nto the depths, but we managed to work as a team to keep afloat. I doubt the fear I felt shall ever be matched. Just as I thought we’d escaped the worst, a bolt of lightning tore the sky and spiked right through me.
“But rather than die, I was given a vision. I saw the demon, I saw his claws gripping our world. In that fleeting moment, I saw The Cog and understood what had to be done.
“When I came to, I helped my friends navigate out of the tempest, but I could no longer remain in their company. I had changed, and from that day onwards I devoted my efforts to spreading the word of my calling. Soon, those who could see the truth joined my side. We found this island and made it our home. The Monks of Déjà vu now live in quiet contemplation and self-sufficiency, each doing their part to bring about the salvation of all.”
“With your blessing,” the Mariner said solemnly, “we shall remain with you, and do our bit to bring about the Shift you speak of.”
“I am pleased!” Diane beamed at them. It was impossible not to return the grin, even McConnell, who thought the whole thing lunacy, flashed his best in response. “Pryce!” she called across the water to her waiting subject. “Prepare some lodgings for our new brothers and sister, for they have heard the calling!”
Pryce bowed low and set off with a skip in his step.
“Now I must be getting back to contemplation. As the original seer it is I who am most likely to shift the Cog, so sadly I have to dedicate much of my own time to inner concentration. Fear not though, nothing so exhausting will be expected of you in the immediate future. More appropriate and less taxing tasks will be assigned.”
Finally she rose and the three stood with her. “On behalf of our little community I welcome you, for the first, the second, the billionth and perhaps, with a little luck, the final time.”
As the three walked away, Grace skipping ahead with the devils (overjoyed to be reunited with her), McConnell and the Mariner spoke in hasty and hushed tones.
“We can’t stay here!”
“Why not? You knew we were headed for the zoo, and here we are. It returned for a reason.”