The Sky Drifter

by Paris Singer

  “And no thanks to you, either,” replied the first voice curtly as the second shrieked with laughter.

  Walking through a couple of towers of circuit boards, I repeated, “Hello?”

  I found myself near enough the back of the shop to try to see to whom the second voice belonged. I looked as far as my cluttered surroundings allowed, through piles and stacks. I was able to make out a series of vertical, coppery bars that arched until they gathered at the top. Behind these something rocked from side to side. I couldn’t tell what it was from where I stood, as I still didn’t have a clear view, so I craned my neck forward and to the side to better see it.

  “Hello, young one,” came the soft voice I recognized as the first that had greeted me.

  Despite its softness, I couldn’t help jumping in fear where I stood, so sudden had the greeting been. I turned abruptly to see a being I hadn’t seen before. From the looks of it, he was male and half my size. His two orange eyes were right next to each other, right above a long, pointy nose in the middle of his face. The corners of his mouth extended up on both sides so to be level with his eyes, and long, straight orange hair, the same shade, cascaded down from inside each corner, dangling loosely past his fairly slim shoulders. Above his eyes and wide forehead, no hair was to be found, and his skin was as gray as titanium. He wore a long, tatty, dark-red robe that rested past his feet onto the floor.

  The shopkeeper’s hands and spindly fingers rested one on top of the other, the bottom one holding the top of a gnarled black cane almost as tall as he was. Despite his appearance, his smiling eyes and demeanor radiated friendliness.

  “So,” began the shopkeeper, “how may we help you today?” His smile widened so it filled his entire face.

  “I—”

  “Have you asked him what he wants, yet?” screeched the second voice behind me.

  The shopkeeper sighed exasperatedly, closing his little eyes for a moment. Opening them again to look at me once more, he said, “Pay him no mind. He must like your smell. However, he’ll become increasingly louder until he meets you, won’t he? Ah, best you meet then. Best you meet. Okay, young one, this way.” The shopkeeper glided past me, as though hovering, and turned left toward the back of the shop and out of sight.

  I hesitate. Part of me just wanted to ask the shopkeeper about the mysterious girl and leave, but the other part really was certain it wanted to meet the owner of the screechy voice who liked my smell.

  As if sensing my reluctance, the shopkeeper, whose voice once again seemed to come from everywhere simultaneously, said with a giggle, “He’s a little rude, young one, but you have nothing to fear, you have nothing to fear. Come.”

  I felt some relief at his words, and walked forward and farther into the steadily dimmer cluttered shop.

  As I walked, awkwardly attempting not to knock any of the strange items over, I tried to keep my gaze in the direction I’d seen the shiny brown-orange bars. The closer I came, the louder I heard the sounds of rattling and inane laughter.

  Moments later, I reached a low arch made of ancient paper books, beyond which distorted, elongated inky black shadows danced in a soft yellow glow. Turning my head, I saw what I’d suspected as being a large bell-shaped cage, inside which a much smaller version of the shopkeeper stood eerily watching me with a large crooked smile on its silvery face. Though I could see he looked exactly like his taller counterpart, none of the kind charm was present. Instead, chaotic malevolence radiated from his diminutive frame, and his eyes burned with gleeful contempt.

  Unlike the shopkeeper he was dishevelled, the orange hair that dangled from the corners of his mouth was unkempt and in knots. His clothes, a match to the shopkeeper’s own, were torn and dirty.

  His little hands grasped the coppery bars in front of him as he stood unmoving, fixedly watching my every move.

  “This is Mr. Tabby,” said the shopkeeper, adding, “don’t worry, the bars are solid. He has no way of getting out,” as though having read my thoughts.

  The shopkeeper stood kindly next to the cage, which hung from a free-standing copper stand whose base spread in every direction like gnarled roots, and whose top hooked at the end like a twisted branch. My gaze drifted toward Mr. Tabby, who made unpleasant gurgling noises while still gazing resolutely at me as though I were some great attraction.

  “If I hadn’t,” continued the shopkeeper as though in reply to me, “he would have continued screeching, and there isn’t a single body who can hear himself think when he does, you know.”

  Convinced now that the shopkeeper could hear my thoughts, I opened my mouth with the intent of confirming it when he said, “Right, then—to business it is. How may we help you today?” He rubbed his hands together.

  “How can we help you?” Mr. Tabby laughed as he repeated the shopkeeper’s words, excitedly bouncing up and down on the spot.

  I needed a moment to absorb and process what was happening around me, and looked about the room, taking in my surroundings for the first time.

  Like the front section of the shop, clutter abounded. To my left, a long, polished wooden desk with bowed legs stood proudly against the back wall. On top of it various types of ancient scales, weights and glass spheres sat or lay haphazardly around, among which large jewels of every color and gold coins were scattered around.

  Below and around the desk, hardback books, some pristine, some old and tatty, stood in piles like miniature buildings. Lying across the floor and hanging from certain parts of the walls were intricately woven and patterned rugs, completing the look of ancient opulence of this section of the shop.

  “He smells good,” said Mr. Tabby in a low, high-pitched tone.

  Lifting his cane, the shopkeeper hit the bottom of the hanging cage with force, causing Mr. Tabby to turn his head toward him with a sad, regretful expression on his face. “Quiet you. You’ll put off our guest,” stated the shopkeeper through his teeth.

  Mr. Tabby turned back to face me with the same sad expression for a moment, only to revert back to the violently mischievous look I knew him best for.

  I didn’t want to hang around longer than I absolutely had to, so I proceeded to ask the shopkeeper whether he’d ever seen or knew the mysterious girl. Suddenly Mr. Tabby said, “Pretty. Mysterious,” in a low, giggling voice as he gazed at me.

  “Yes, she is,” agreed the shopkeeper in a slightly more serious tone. “I do wonder who she is,” he added pensively. His eyes, despite being a bright shade of orange, seemed then to be as cold and hard as steel. As though catching himself, the shopkeeper’s expression returned to the same kindly one as before, and he said, “Sorry, young one, I don’t know who she is. Perhaps, should you find her, you could send her my way? She arouses my interest.”

  “Interest,” repeated Mr. Tabby, giggling, once again bouncing up and down in his cage.

  Now knowing without a doubt my mind was being read, I thanked the shopkeeper for his time, and avoiding Mr. Tabby’s glare I turned and headed toward the front of the shop and the exit.

  Just as I turned the corner, however, I heard the shopkeeper whisper, “Wait,” in an urgent tone. Unlike before where his voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, I was now able to pinpoint it as coming from behind me.

  I turned to see him standing directly in front of me, his face no longer kind but gravely serious and ominous. “There are times, young one,” he began, his voice matching the gravity of his face, “when secret doors we seek to open lead only to oblivion.” Having spoken those cryptic words, the shopkeeper remained silently gazing at me as though watching an approaching, distant storm. Unable to make any sense of his words, I thanked him again and then hurried out of the bric-a-brac shop.

  The artificial sun above shone brightly, causing me to squint, so dark had the interior of the shop been. There were, I hoped, a few shops left to visit, so I walked down the dusty yellow path, glad to have gotten away from the shopkeeper and Mr. Tabby. My hopes suddenly faded, however, as I remembered the inconveni
ent number of shops that had been closed before I’d found the bric-a-brac shop.

  A quick glance ahead and around another winding bend confirmed my fears that all shops appeared closed. Momentarily disheartened by my failed attempt to obtain information on the mysterious girl, I felt slightly calmer at the thought that Iris and Pi were likely faring better. They’d gone to the more popular areas, after all. With that in mind, I decided to go straight to Shabli’s, fully expecting to wait there alone until they’d finished their own investigations.

  As I walked, the only sound I heard was my muffled footsteps on the path, so quiet were my surroundings. It was true that I hadn’t been to that section before—I’d had no reason to—but I found it hard to believe no one else was around. I continued pondering why this could be when from somewhere behind me came the sound of an enormous explosion, immediately followed by a slight rumble at my feet. I turned instantly to see the steadily expanding head of a rising serpent of coarse dark smoke.

  My jaw dropped and my eyes widened at what I saw, my mind unable to provide answers to the phenomenon it witnessed. As I stood, motionlessly gazing at the thick, climbing pillar, I felt a force greater than my own grab my shoulders and drag me with such speed and force it wasn’t until I was pinned against the wall of a building in an adjacent alley that I saw my attacker. Standing in front of me, still holding tightly on to my shoulders with great force, was the alabaster face of the mysterious girl, who looked utterly furious.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she spat through gritted teeth.

  Her vivid green eyes churned with inky blacks and gilded golds like silent, brooding storms. No lines marked the pale white skin of her face as she frowned and glowered. It was as though I looked at a living doll, like the ones I’d seen in the bric-a-brac shop moments ago. When I’d first seen the mysterious girl outside my window, I’d been convinced she was a Simian like me, but looking at her so closely now, it was clear to me she wasn’t. It still amazed me how, despite having been aboard for quite some time, there were still species on the Sky Drifter I’d never seen before.

  “You’re jeopardizing everything and putting yourself and me in danger. Stop asking questions about me—understand?” Letting go abruptly, the mysterious girl took a step back, and shutting her eyes, said, “This was a mistake. I never should have come. What was I thinking?” She opened her eyes again, shooting me a piercing glare, and stated with commanding force, “You—never mention me to anyone again. Got it? Doing so would be the fastest way to your death, not to mention mine.” The mysterious girl took a single step forward, and leaning toward me, pointed her index finger in my face. “And if I catch you so much as mumbling to yourself about me, I will kill you without hesitation. Don’t think I won’t.” With that, the mysterious girl turned and started down the narrow alley.

  I remember how time seemed to stand still then, as I was faced with a decision that something somewhere inside told me would be the most crucial I’d ever made. If I simply watched her leave, most likely forever, my life would simply go back to being what it had been before she’d entered it. Iris, Pi, Ava, Sphere, Shabli’s, the academy—they’d all be there, waiting for me to return to the normal flow of things. Something, however, told me that if I could somehow stop the mysterious girl from leaving, if I could get her to reveal her secrets to me, everything I knew would not only change but would forever-more be altered. I believe now that should I have had the time to think rationally, instead of acting on impulse and instinct, I would probably have chosen for my life to have remained unchanged.

  I loved my friends. I loved my life. I neither craved nor yearned for anything outside the existence I knew and enjoyed. Even my perpetual rivalry with One wasn’t something I would have changed. It brought a certain amount of danger and competition into my life beyond Sphere. No, I don’t believe I would have wanted anything to have changed.

  But.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “WAIT!” I EXCLAIMED with a slight tone of desperation. The mysterious girl, ignoring my plea, kept on walking. “Please!” I persisted, and hurrying to catch up to her, I grabbed her arm. She at once shook herself free of my grasp and turned, burning rage radiating from her.

  “Don’t touch me,” she spat. “Disappear of your own will or be knocked unconscious. Your decision.”

  Despite her air of belligerence, the mysterious girl’s words didn’t match the serenity of the delicate features of her face. The image I’d built up in my mind when I’d first seen her had been completely wrong. That aside, I had to get her to stop, if only briefly, so I could think. Then I’d know what to do—then the answer would reveal itself.

  “Please, just stop. Please tell me who you are. Why am I in danger?”

  “You must be simpler than you…Ugh, just—never mind! Go!” The mysterious girl turned away and ran down the alley.

  What I said next I’m not especially proud of, but I want you to understand I needed her to stop. I had to think quickly. “I’ll keep asking questions until we’re both killed then.”

  So abruptly did the mysterious girl halt a thin cloud of yellow dust rose like a small sandstorm around her ankles. She quietly spoke under her breath. Words I couldn’t hear.

  Words were still formulating in my mind when the mysterious girl turned abruptly in one fluid motion and rushed toward me. So swift were her movements I was powerless to avoid her as she pinned me hard against the wall, holding tightly on to my throat.

  “You think this is a game?” she asked in a composed, eerily calm tone.

  Maybe it was the blood rushing out of my head, but what logic would have dictated as a safe course of action, my impulsive nature, likely propelled by an unerring desire to understand, completely ignored it.

  Through strained, gurgled words I managed to say,” I—don’t—know…You—won’t—tell. . ugh—me.”

  The driven anger in the mysterious girl’s eyes faltered as she blinked and looked away for a brief moment. Gradually, she loosened her grip on my throat and let go as she frowned. “It’s none of your concern,” she said resolutely. “Just do as I say and let that be the end of it.”

  I raised my hand to my throat, rubbing it where the mysterious girl’s grip had been. I was undeterred and still very much sought answers. In an assertive, yet soft tone, I replied, “It is my business. If my life is in danger, it’s my business.”

  The mysterious girl shot me an icy stare that involuntarily made me gulp. We briefly stared silently at each other before her eyes softened slightly and she sighed resignedly. “Look, you’ll only be in danger if you don’t cease to ask questions about me. I must now be brief,” she continued, increasing the speed in which she spoke, “for they’re certain to notice soon. So listen intently. That explosion was a distracter, but we have mere moments until their interest wanes and they search for you. You’ve already aroused suspicion, so what you must do now is continue as you’ve always done. Lead your habitual life. Don’t believe there is anyone here in whom you can confide—they’re all the same eyes and ears. Confide in no one. You are alone here.”

  The mysterious girl paused as her gaze remained fixed on me as though to ensure her words had been branded on my mind and that I understood. When it seemed she was satisfied that I had, she abruptly turned and went to dash down the alley, but stopped.

  Without turning to face me, she muttered, “Your life—everything you know—is by design. I’m glad you survived.” With that, she ran down to the end of the alley and then turned the corner out of sight.

  I leaned back against the wall and exhaled loudly as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. I was still no closer to knowing who the mysterious girl was, but the gravity of her words steadily impacted me the more they sank in. What could she have meant when she’d said my life was by design? Whose design? My own? And why did she say she was glad I’d survived? Survived what? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as my head hurt the longer I tried to decipher the mysterious gir
l’s cryptic words.

  Suddenly, as if from a dream, awed and excited sounds of a nearby crowd drifted into my ears, and the explosion came rushing back into the foreground of my mind. I hurried back to the path, and looking up I saw the stream of dark gray smoke beginning to thin and spread as it reached the dome above.

  The mysterious girl had told me the explosion had been a distracter used so she could speak with me. Now I couldn’t help but wonder whether she’d caused it or whether she’d had the help of others. The image my mind built of her was far from positive. I wasn’t even sure I could believe anything she’d told me. I thought of One and considered whether he could be behind all this—the mysterious girl, the explosion, everything. There was a time when I wouldn’t have thought him capable, but now I wasn’t so sure.

  Without another moment to waste, I ran back up the path to where I suspected the billowing smoke stemmed from—the academy.

  Once I reached the square, in the middle of which stood the academy, the entire area was filled with shocked and panicked onlookers. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say every being aboard was there. Ahead and to the right of me, an enormous dark hole replaced the two long windows that had once been there. Off-yellow repair units, which looked a little like MOOs, only with a multitude of arms and slightly bigger, clung to the side of the building around the hole and had already begun repairs as the smoke steadily died down.

  “Hey, buddy.” Pi’s aloof voice came from my left and was almost immediately followed by Iris’ urgent voice. “Seven, are you okay? Can you believe this?”

  “Hey,” I replied, initially glad to see them, only to suddenly become inwardly guarded when I remembered the mysterious girl’s words. “What happened?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

  “I asked around,” began Iris, “and best I can tell, there was an accident up on the teacher’s floor. Something about a failed research experiment one of the chemistry teachers was working on. Apparently, everyone is okay, though! Can you believe it?” Iris repeated, excitedly.