“Hoshi was right. You are the devil and this place is hell.”
“You’re too kind! And Hoshi may well have been right. Isn’t the devil immortal?” He lowers his voice into a stage whisper. “You see, I rather believe I am too, Benedict! After all, I’ve already risen from the ashes once! I think I’ll be here ruling over my dominion for ever!”
I shouldn’t have said anything. The only reason he showed me what he’s doing to poor Ezekiel was to get a reaction out of me. The best way to resist him is to keep silent.
He chuckles. “Funny, I’ve gone the other way somewhat with the persona I’m adopting for tonight. Perhaps I should have gone for Lucifer instead of… No, I’ve done that one before. Still, the juxtaposition between your suggestion and mine are most interesting!”
I stare off into the distance, trying to zone out completely, but it’s impossible.
“Right, I have last-minute arrangements to be getting on with; your mother’s wish for me to include you in the shows has rather changed my plans. Do you know what Arcadia means, Benedict?” He leans forward and scans my face. “You don’t, do you? I am surprised! I’d have thought a boy with your education would know about all that classical stuff. Still, you never did have much going on between the ears, did you? Your actions over the last year have more than proved that!
“Arcadia means paradise. Arcadia means perfection. And it’s a good name, for that is what our opening ceremony will be. Perfection on a plate! Especially now that you will be there, with your Purity shining down from the stage for all to see! We’re holding our opening ceremony in there, you know, and then the circus acts begin for real. Not long until Ezekiel will be up there again, scrabbling around for his life!”
He pulls himself up from the deep chair.
“Just a few hours now before those doors open and the Pures come spilling in! I’m off to meet with your dear old mum again now: she can’t stay away from this place.”
And then he turns and taps his way out of the arena, leaving me there in the centre of the great maze of metal: just another fly caught in his web.
HOSHIKO
“I was five years old when they ripped me apart from my family. When three huge men with angry faces burst into our home and grabbed me one day. My little brother was screaming. I was screaming. My mother was sobbing as they pulled me away from her, shoved me in the back of a van and drove me away.
“A life sentence for showing a bit of agility, for being able to do a few backflips.
“I haven’t seen my family since. Perhaps they’re all dead. It’s not unlikely – there’s not much food in the slums, there’s no real medical help if you get ill, and it’s cold, so cold in the winter.
“When I got to the circus, I was thrown into a dormitory with the other people you call Dregs. Forced to train, forced to perform.
“How do you do that? Make a child perform even if she doesn’t want to? How do you get her to comply, to do what you want? Well, you beat her, you whip her, you Taser her and, sometimes, that’s enough. It doesn’t take too much to scare a five-year-old child who misses her mummy.
“Sometimes, though, it takes a little more than that. Sometimes you have to really harm her, or harm others, just to make sure she knows exactly what’s at stake.
“I’ve seen people murdered, and not just during the shows, not just in the name of entertainment. I’ve seen people shot dead right in front of me, because they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s not unusual in the Cirque.
“The only reason I survived for so long was because of the other people you call Dregs. They took care of me, became my new family. They understood, because they’d been through the same thing. They all looked after me, but one person in particular took care of me. She loved me when I most needed love. She gave me her food, she gave me her time, she gave me her wisdom. Her name was Amina.
“Her name was Amina and they murdered her. They hanged her by her neck in the arena we performed in, just to teach me a lesson. Afterwards, they sold her body parts in an online auction, I believe. I don’t know how much she fetched.
“But I don’t suppose you want to hear about that. Those kinds of details aren’t really what fascinates you about the Cirque. You want to know about the performances.
“How does it feel to be a circus star?
“Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but it’s not much fun in the circus, for the performers at least.
“It doesn’t really make much difference if you’re an acrobat, or on the trapeze, or in with the lions. Whatever your role is, it’s all the same in the end. There’s always a crowd of those people who call themselves Pures, a crowd of those people who are apparently superior, apparently better, watching you suffer. Calling out, crying out, for your death. Desperately waiting for you to fail: to slip, or get mauled, or get shaken to death, or ripped to shreds, or set on fire.”
I turn to Amanda. The syrupy smile has gone from her face.
“You asked me about Benedict Baines. Benedict Baines came to the circus, saw what went on there and hated it. Benedict Baines had the courage to question, the courage to judge for himself.”
I turn back to the camera.
“You all know who his mother is; you all know the beliefs he was brought up with. He fought against them. He saw them for what they were and he rejected them. He used his head and his heart and he made up his own mind. If he can do it, you can too.
“The day is coming when you get the chance to stand up and change things. You have a vote. Use it. Use it to do what’s right. Don’t listen to the propaganda, the lies, the false facts you’ve been fed all your life.
“The people you call Dregs don’t have a voice; it was taken away from us long ago. Taken away because we were the wrong colour or the wrong creed or because our parents’ parents happened to come from a different place to you.
“You have a voice though. You have a chance to make things right.
“The Cirque only exists because it has an audience. It’s time to take them on. Stand up to those around you. Question them, challenge them, show them that there is another way. There is another truth.”
I pause. I stare hard into the camera.
“We are all flesh and blood. We all feel. We are all human. Be stronger, be better, be like Benedict Baines. Have the courage to stand up and fight for justice. Put that cross on that piece of paper. Make a difference. Vote for what is right. Vote for change.”
Amanda leans forward and presses a button on the camera. When she looks at me, her eyes are brimming with tears.
“Wow,” she says. “You wonderful, brave girl. No wonder they wanted you to speak.”
She places a hand over mine and squeezes it tight. “Well done. You’ve just helped us change the world.”
BEN
Hoshi told me once that meeting me made her change her mind about good and evil. She said that before me she thought that all Pures were evil but that, after me, she’d never look at things in that black-and-white way again.
We were holed up in one of the safe houses the resistance arranged for us: hiding in plain sight, Jack called it. We spent time in a few houses like that one: apparently ordinary-looking houses on apparently ordinary streets which provided safe havens and refuge for people in danger from the authorities.
We didn’t even have to worry about suspicious neighbours twitching net curtains because the houses in the rest of the street were all owned by undercover resistance agents and their families – people like Jack used to be – apparently law-abiding citizens who trimmed their lawns and kept their flower beds neat, went to work and kept their heads down while doing everything they possibly could to help the Dregs and provide for anyone in trouble.
The houses were our favourite places of all: warm and cosy, with well-stocked cupboards and clean, warm beds.
I remember when we first got to that place, how Hoshi and Greta kept opening the fridge as if they thought the milk, yoghurts, fresh fruit and veg
etables would just vanish if they didn’t keep checking on them. There was a bathroom upstairs, and Greta used to turn the hot tap on and off again and again, like it was magic, which I guess to her it was. Hoshi would run her big warm baths overflowing with bubbles and she’d spend hours just splashing around in there.
The TV didn’t work but there was a big cupboard full of board games and a pack of playing cards. Jack was trying to teach us how to play this old game called Trumps. Greta and he were both obsessed with it for a while, so Hoshi and I used to take the opportunity to go to one of the bedrooms for a “rest”.
For the first time ever we had privacy: space and time to get to know each other properly. We didn’t just talk, of course. There were other, special moments in that house that I’ll remember for the rest of my life. I smile thinking about it. If I had to choose my most favourite place in the world, that house would definitely be it.
Anyway, Hoshi and I were talking one day about the fact that my mother was running for office against Laura Minton and she said that she thought that good was stronger than evil and good would win in the end. I remember being really surprised – Hoshi always seems such a realist, and all the stuff she’s been through can make her seem a bit spiky at times. When I asked her about it, though, she said that being with me had made her more hopeful.
“People wouldn’t be capable of feeling like this if we weren’t all meant to look after each other,” she said.
“But what about people like Silvio?” I said. “And what about my mother?”
“Silvio was an abomination, but maybe he wasn’t born that way. Maybe it was the terrible injustices he suffered when he was young that made him like that. And no offence, Ben, but there aren’t many people in this world as warped as your mother.”
She snuggled up even closer in my arms.
“What I mean is that I think now that there’s good in most people, whether they’re Pure or Dreg, or there would be if they weren’t so brainwashed and deluded. How could someone as sweet and perfect as Greta even exist if the world’s evil? And think of everything Jack’s given up for us – three strangers he’d never even met. So many people have helped us, even though it put them at risk. Amina and Priya and all my family in the Cirque, and all those people now, bringing us food, helping us hide, helping us survive. For every bad act we’ve seen, there have been loads of good acts. Loads of times when people have put themselves on the line for us – when they’ve done all they can to protect us.”
She looked up at me, and I looked back. We just stared at each other for the longest time before she said, “There’s so much goodness in people, Ben. It’s stronger than evil, it has to be. One day good will win through, I’m sure of it.”
I agreed with her at the time. It made sense then. It made sense last night too, when we stood up to the wolves.
It doesn’t make sense now though.
If Hoshi and I were still together, maybe I could still believe it. Without her, I can’t see anything good any more. Not when I’ve just watched that little boy scrambling around up there, fighting for his life.
The circus will open tonight. People will pay good money to come and join in with whatever horrors have been planned, the gorier the better. Silvio and my mother have won this game. Evil holds the trump card and it beats Good hands down, again, just like it does every time.
I’m in such deep thought that it startles me when Ezekiel appears, back in his normal ragged clothes. He looks up at me, the cheeky grin back on his face. What on earth is there for him to smile about?
“It’s OK, Ben,” he says, gently. “Don’t be sad. I’m sure your mother won’t let you be in the shows really.”
I hear myself making a strange noise, a cross between a splutter and a sob.
“I was sad because of you,” I tell him. “Not me. Are you OK?” What a stupid question.
He nods and slips his hand into mine. “It wasn’t so bad. I’m much quicker than all those spiders; I’m going to be fine.”
I stare down at him. He’s just been through all that and his first thought is to comfort me. He’s trying to make me feel better about his ordeal.
No wonder Hoshi said he was special. He is.
“Do you know what I think?” he says.
I shake my head.
“Tell me. What do you think?”
“I think it will all be OK. I think all this will stop soon. That’s what happens in all the stories, isn’t it? The good guy always wins.”
I feel my eyes welling up. I rest a tentative arm around him and he instantly throws his around me and hugs me tight.
“Ezekiel,” I say, looking down on his glossy curls. “I think you must be right. With people like you in the world, it can’t be all bad. With people like you in the world, there’s always room for hope.”
I wipe the tears in my eyes away before he can see them, and together the two of us make our way back across the courtyard.
HOSHIKO
Avoiding Laura and Amanda’s attempts to hug me, I scoop Bojo up, pivot away from them and head straight back into the entrance hall.
“I’ve done what you wanted,” I say to Kadir. “You can let Greta go now.”
“Don’t worry, my child. I’ve already given the orders. She’ll probably be home before you. Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I don’t say anything. I clench my fists, my nails digging into the palms of my hands.
“Don’t you want to get changed?” he asks. “That costume is rather different from the usual slum attire.”
“There’s no time. I just want to see Greta.”
“Have it your own way,” he says. “Next time perhaps you’ll do what I ask in the first place. I don’t like playing games like this; it’s much easier if everyone just does what I want from the start.”
I stare at him, swallowing hard so that the words inside me don’t come out. I can’t risk antagonizing him while they still have Greta. If they’ve done anything to hurt her, I don’t know what I’ll do.
BEN
It’s still quiet when we make our way outside. For a moment, I think about running away, seeing how far I could get, but I know there’s no point. Besides, I don’t know if I could do it now, turn tail and just leave Ezekiel and Sean and Leah and Emmanuel and all the others. I know I can’t do anything to save or protect them, but it would feel cowardly now, to leave them behind.
All those nights, Hoshi would wake up with a jolt, sit bolt upright, fling the blankets off with a scream. The circus was haunting her, she said, memories of what had gone on in there and fears for what was happening right now to the people she’d left behind. She was guilty, she said, guilty of putting herself first, of leaving them all to their plight. I didn’t really understand what she meant then. I mean, I felt sorry for her, but I couldn’t see why she could ever imagine any of it was her fault.
As soon as we heard what they were building over here, I’d catch her and Greta staring across, watching its progress with morbid fascination.
“They’re my family,” she’d say. “They’re a part of me and I abandoned them.”
I didn’t get that at all. I’d never had that feeling before; never felt that sense of duty, that sense of unity, of being bound together. I never felt it with my family: even when I was a little boy, there was always an empty space deep down inside. I only felt it once I was with Hoshi and Greta and Jack. Only understood then that family isn’t about blood at all. Family is about loyalty. Family is about love.
Now, in this terrible place, I understand what she meant. I’ve only known the people in here a couple of days but their faces will haunt my dreams for ever. I feel bound to them already. Opening time approaches thick and fast and for every urge inside telling me to turn heel and run, there’s a contrary one, a strange, strong one: a need to see this through together.
I look around at the different arenas and attractions, at the rides and the stalls. It doesn’t look like a place of horror. It looks like somewhere
wonderful things happen. It looks like a place of childhood dreams, of childhood magic.
Everything is new. Everything gleams with fresh paint. Lots of things shine, lots of things sparkle. Even the rubbish bins are bright and attractive, each one in the shape of a different circus animal.
There haven’t been any deaths since I arrived, not yet. There’s been electrocution and beatings and horror already, but no deaths.
One thing’s certain, though: it won’t be long until someone dies. This place has been built for torture, built for death. Which one of us will be the first?
I feel a tug on my arm.
“Are you OK, Ben?” Ezekiel says, worry furrowing his little brow. Then he points at the sky. “Ooh, what’s that?”
I look up. The light above is fading already. High above the smudged pink sunset, tiny black dots hover, hundreds of them, spreading out as far as the eye can see. They aren’t birds, I don’t think – there are too many of them and they’re too round, too uniformly spaced out.
I shake my head, bewildered.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“Do you think it’s aliens?”
“No,” I laugh. “Well, maybe. I don’t know what else it could be.”
Across the courtyard, Silvio appears with my mother. Her arms are crossed, her lips are pursed, her eyes glide over me like I’m invisible and then back up at the sky.
Simultaneously, a beam of light appears out of each one of the black dots, wide and strong, projecting down across the city.
“They’re projection drones, I think,” I say to Ezekiel. “But I don’t know what they’re doing.”
One of the beams reaches down into the courtyard, its pool of light forming a wide circle between us and Silvio and my mother.
I gaze across London. Everywhere, light beams, pouring down from the sky.
The first time I ever saw Hoshi it was in a beam of light like this. A holographic image they projected upwards the day the Cirque first arrived in the city. I saw her dance across the sky. A wave of longing seizes me. I close my eyes. I can still see her now, still feel that tingling when I looked into her angry eyes.
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