by Amanda Jay
Tom had figured that she had to be right then.
He settled down on one of the two old feather mattresses in the attic space, waiting patiently while Skii fussed about cutting the cake in half. She seemed rather reluctant to separate those beautiful flowers but finally handed Tom his piece.
"I got you something as well," she said, almost shyly.
Tom’s smile returned. They did this every year. This silly little dance that both hid and showed how much they meant to each other. Emotions, like cake, were rare in Mliss.
"But it isn’t my birthday!" Tom gave the standard response.
Skii rolled her eyes again. She rolls her eyes way too much, Tom thought, but a sort of happy warmth filled him all the same. Her face was like a well-read map. One glance at it and he always knew, without a doubt, that he would never be lost.
Tom didn’t know when his birthday was, much like he didn’t know his age, or where he came from. He wasn’t even sure of his name, really. And he wasn't alone in this. He was one of the hundreds of abandoned children in Mliss. The pests of the Underbelly, they were called. Children who were abandoned or lost when times got hard and there wasn’t enough food to go around. Children whose parents had died in the rebellion so many years ago. Children who had sprouted up like weeds-- stubborn and resilient.
Except Tom didn’t feel abandoned. Skii had found him, hadn't she? Skii, who had stolen her first loaf of bread when he was just a little ‘un and named him Tom because she said he was nimble like a cat. Together they built whatever meagre life they could manage. They worked together at the Wheel, they stole together when their pay was cut, and when the lights went out at nine o’clock, they shared this cold, dark attic that was not their first home and definitely wouldn't be their last.
Nine o’clock. Tom was in such a good mood that he had almost lost track of time. He peered out the window at the Eyes of Mliss and made a face.
"Well, you better give it to me quick then. Not much longer till lights out."
"Maybe it’ll be late today. Because it’s my birthday and all," Skii mused.
"Fat chance" Tom snorted. "The Twin Faced God himself couldn’t stop dear, old Jamous Frankly from turning off his precious lights."
"Well, here you go," Skii said awkwardly, handing him a small, yellowed piece of card. Tom didn’t realise what it was at first, and held it closer to their candle for a closer look. It was his turn to widen his eyes.
"A photograph!" he exclaimed, his eyes never leaving the small rectangle. "Where did you find this?"
It was old. Very old, Tom could tell. The edges were frayed and the picture itself had a few dark stains on it. It was hard to make out the serious-faced man and woman, each holding the handle of a large steamer trunk suspended between them. Tom tore his eyes away to look at Skii.
"Where?" he asked again.
"Found a box of old things when we were cleaning out a storeroom at the Wheel," Skii shrugged, happily. "Thought you would like it."
She reached out and flipped the photograph over. Something was penned in browning ink on the back.
"Eugene said it read 'Jacob and Elana, onboard the Great Voyager,'" Skii told him, staring at the words herself. Tom knew the letters meant as little to her as they did to him. Skii and Tom knew how to navigate their way through Mliss on rooftops and cables, disguise themselves so that even they had trouble recognising each other, and climb through even the most feared butchers’ windows for their dinners, but neither of them ever learned to read.
"I thought you’d like that-- The Great Voyager."
Tom chuckled. Skii knew him too well. "Is it your way of saying it’s a good idea, then? Twin Faced God knows it took you long enough."
He predicted the eye roll before it came.
"Uh-huh. And how do you say we pay for our great adventure, little one? We can hardly find enough food to fill our bellies, let alone sail along to the other side of the world. Last time I checked, they weren’t handing out bonuses at the Wheel either. And who even knows what you might find in them Savage Isles? They haven’t earned their name from nothing, you know!" All her arguments came out at once, but Tom knew them all already.
"It's got to be better than here, right?" he countered, mechanically. "If no one's gone there in so long, how can anyone even tell? The streets could be lined with Pulse Stones for all we know. No more pushing that stinking Wheel around for us to survive."
Skii smiled. They had been through this too many times before and they both knew it wouldn’t go anywhere.
"You better put away the picture in your box, little one. And put away your grand thoughts as well, why don't you? Maybe in another life, things would have been different. But it’s the belly of Mliss we were born into and in this belly we will stay."
The familiar tension started to sneak its way into the room and Tom didn’t want to let it spoil their evening.
"How’s the cake?" he asked, noticing that Skii had taken only the smallest bite of the flowered icing.
"Delicious," she said, her easy smile returning. "You did well, Tom Cat."
Two minutes before lights out. Tom pulled out his battered, old shoe box from under a loose floorboard and hastily put the picture away with the few other photographs he had collected over the years. There was one of an old cottage with honeysuckle creeping along its wall, one with a young boy with a top hat holding his teddy bear, and a few of families wearing the same curt expression that Jacob and Elana wore. The pictures were an odd assortment but Tom treasured them.
Photographs were hard to come by in Mliss, camera obscuras even more so, and many even thought them to be quite valuable on account of how difficult it was to produce them now that the Pulse Stones had run out. But that wasn’t why Tom loved them. No, he loved them because, for just a moment, he could transport himself to another world. For a little while he would live in a little cottage with his odd little brother who wore a top hat.
Tom sighed as inaudibly as he could, tucking the photographs and the shoebox back under the floorboard and finally blowing out the candle. But ask as Skii might, Tom could not put away his thoughts as easily.
The Eyes struck nine, and it was like the Twin Faced God himself had reached out from the heavens and turned off the switch that powered Mliss. One moment the city was bustling away, lights twinkling in the factory windows while the cables spun on, and the next moment, it had collapsed in to complete and utter darkness. It was like the time a bully in the Underbelly had punched Tom in the stomach and he had the wind knocked out of him. The city doubled over, all its wind gone, the sudden silence overpowering. All that remained as proof of life were the Eyes of Mliss, the face of the giant clock that towered in the city centre with the two pinpricks of light that shone from the last two Pulse Stones to ever exist.
Long after Skii fell asleep, Tom lay on his hard mattress, thinking about what she said.
"In this belly we will stay."
Tom didn't want it to be true. There's got to be more to life than pushing around a Wheel and having to steal just to stop his stomach aching with hunger. But deep down, he couldn't shake the idea that Skii was right. No matter how many times he went over it, they really didn't have any other option. But, he thought to himself as he pulled a ratty sheet over him, at least they had each other, which was a lot more than what most people had.
OF RECOGNITION
I was walking down a crowded street once when I saw someone I recognised in a shop window.
Have you ever caught sight of your own reflection and have it take you by surprise? It certainly caught me by surprise.
I don't know what shook me most-- the fact that I couldn't recognise my own self, or the eerie feeling of staring into your own eyes and trying to say hello. I took a while there, looking at myself. I lifted up my hand just to be sure.
There's a way of truly looking at yourself sometimes. It isn't simply the way you look at yourself each morning to make sure your hair is tidy or there are no smudges on your face.
There's a way of looking at yourself that reveals who you are and I saw it that day. I saw someone I knew. I saw someone I knew, but it wasn't me.
TOM
Tom wasn’t sure when he finally fell asleep but he must have because how else could he have been sailing on The Voyager? He leaned over the railings, watching the dolphins leap out of the water and spin, putting on a show, when a solemn-faced Jacob shook him by the shoulder.
"Hang on a minute," he murmured, bending further over the edge and trying to get a better look at the dolphins. They were even more beautiful than the ones he had seen in picture books.
But Jacob wouldn’t ease up on his shoulder and Tom felt his patience wear thin.
"What d'ya want Jacob?" he asked angrily, turning around and promptly rolling off his mattress.
"Ouch," Tom grumbled, starting to rub his shoulder when he felt a hand clamp down on his mouth. His eyes flared open to see Skii just above him, holding a finger to her lips. The look of urgency on her face was enough to wake Tom up completely.
He looked at her searchingly. She glanced towards the window, her eyes sharp, signalling something bad. Tom nodded and softly crept behind a pile of boxes, while Skii took her place, knife in hand, near the window.
They never needed words to communicate and had put together their emergency plan when they settled into their very first shelter-- another attic but hardly as warm or clean as this one. It was with forced patience that Tom and Skii waited, hoping that this intruder would pass on by and praying to the Twin Faced God that they wouldn’t have to start searching for another home the next day.
The intruder could be heard long before he could be seen, that was for sure.
Clumsy git, Tom thought to himself as he heard the shuffling and the mumbled swearing. It took him long enough, and when he finally reached the window Tom heard Skii take a deep breath and hold it.
Move along now, Tom silently willed, touching a cut above his eyebrow that had only just healed. He had got it in a scuffle down at the Stew Pot when he was trying to stop another orphan from stealing his dinner. We don’t want any trouble here. I like this attic and really, really don't want to move.
But the intruder showed no signs of moving on. He stopped at the window and peered in. It was dark inside their attic and Tom was sure they couldn’t be seen. His heart was still pounding though and he stole another glance at Skii who was crouched near the window, perfectly poised to pounce on whomever it was that threatened their home.
Now that they could see him through the grimy glass, Tom noted that the intruder himself didn’t look particularly menacing. He took his time moving on the roof, clearly unsure of his footing and looked to be of Tom’s own build. He wore a dark coat and an oversized bowler hat which fell almost humorously over his ears.
I could take him, no problem, thought Tom, though he wished it wouldn’t come to that. The streets of Mliss were a dangerous place, even more so after nine o’clock, and Tom didn’t want any nasty surprises. Years of fending for himself in the Underbelly taught him that it was best to keep his head down and go unnoticed. The less attention they drew to themselves, the better.
The man with the hat seemed determined though. After what felt like hours, he finally pried the window open and climbed inside noisily. It took less than a tick of the Eyes for Skii to take him-- his arms twisted behind his back and her knife pressed firmly to his throat.
"Not a sound now," she breathed softly. A large, heavy case slipped out of the intruder’s hand and fell to the floor with a loud crash. Tom winced.
"We don’t want any trouble, you hear?" he spoke slowly as he approached them. The intruder looked liked he was new to the streets. He was probably just looking for some shelter. "I know it’s rough out there, but this is our home. And we can’t be having the likes of you sneaking around our home, you hear? Best be on your way now."
The boy is shaking, Tom realised, a soft wave of pity washing over him. It was definitely a boy, he could see that now, even though the room was dark and that ridiculous hat had been knocked over his eyes. He stole another glance at Skii who stood firmly locked in position. The boy's back was pressed into her as she watched Tom’s expression for direction.
Hurry up, Skii’s eyes said as Tom finally stood in front of the boy. He wished he would stop shaking. Tom didn’t like what he might have to do next. He hoped the boy wouldn’t put up a fight.
"We don’t want to hurt you." Tom knew he wasn’t very convincing with Skii’s knife present but he had to try all the same. "We just want you to climb back out the way you came and leave us be, that’s all."
The boy just trembled harder.
"P-p-please," he finally stammered. He might have said more but Tom couldn’t hear him. The cursed bowler hat had slid all the way down to the bridge of his nose.
Tom knew he probably shouldn’t have but something made him reach out and pull the hat off the boy’s face.
It took him a few ticks of the Eyes to focus. A few more to see. And when he finally did, he thought it was some kind of trick. Some mirror Skii had held up as a joke or something.
Tom’s eyes widened as much as the boy’s did. Except they were his own eyes, on his own face. They stared at each other, Tom’s head spinning as he wondered stupidly if he was dreaming again.
"Tom?" Skii’s voice was as sharp as her knife. "Tom! What is it?"
But Tom couldn’t answer. He could only stare at himself. At his own fear and confusion reflected in his own eyes.
TOM
It was Skii’s shove that brought him out of his daze. She had stuck her knife back in her belt, he noted. She still had her grip on the boy though and looked none too pleased.
"Tom, what in Bearoux's name is going on?" she asked, roughly.
She still hadn’t seen him. He didn’t know how to explain it to her either.
His eyes just moved from the boy's face to Skii's helplessly.
After what seemed like an eternity, Skii broke her hold on the intruder and pushed him to the floor, pulling out her knife again.
"Any funny business, you and... Twin Faced God have mercy...” she trailed off.
The boy stared up at them, trembling. Now that Tom had a moment to calm down and take a proper look at him, he realised that there were definite differences between them. The boy was paler, for one, and heavier. Tom supposed the boy was better fed and looked after than he was despite the angry, purple bruise on his left cheek. His legs seemed to be about the same size as well so Tom reckoned he wouldn’t have a limp.
But there was definitely something uncanny about him. Tom just couldn’t shake it. It was his eyes. The same eyes Tom saw when he looked in the small broken mirror that hung in the corner of their attic.
"H-h-he was right. It is y-you," the boy stammered, his teeth chattering. He was barely audible, his eyes unfocused and darting all over the room like he was afraid of what would jump out at him from the shadows.
"What do you mean ‘it's me?’" Tom erupted. "What on earth is going on here? Who in the Twin Faced God’s name are you?"
The boy eyed Skii’s knife still hovering menacingly in front of his face. "P-Please. I don’t m-m-mean you any h-harm. I’ve been s-s-s-searching for days."
"You’ve been searching for me?"
"H-he s-s-said I would know. Th-th-th-that I-I would know wh-when I found y-y-you..."
The room seemed to swirl in front of him. This didn't make sense. He was definitely still dreaming.
Tom blinked. He felt Skii’s eyes on him but everything felt far too surreal for him to react. Why did he feel like he was in a fog?
"Who said you would know? Someone sent you?"
"Y-y-yes. He t-told me t-t-t-to find you."
"WHO DID?" Tom couldn't take it anymore.
"M-my f-f-father. O-our father, I-I-I th-think."
FELIX
Felix had had, ever since he could remember, a mind that wandered. If he ever had a minute to himself, he was off. He would
escape into a world that held just the dregs of this one. He never told anyone of his daydreams-- to be honest, he was actually rather embarrassed by them. But mostly, he felt an overwhelming sense of urgency to keep them a secret for reasons he couldn’t even fully explain to himself.
If Felix had ever confided in his father during the exhausting and clinical question and answer sessions that Ezra somehow mistook for bonding, the scientist might have told him that he created these fantasy worlds as a way of escaping his own surroundings. Or maybe Ezra would have scratched his beard and stared at Felix as if he had no idea who this was, posing as his son. It was a much too familiar look to Felix, but it didn’t matter anyway because the sad reality was he could never really confide in the stranger he was forced to call his father.
So his daydreams were kept safely tucked away in his own mind and would occasionally include a fine day when he would eventually tell Ezra exactly what he thought of him. Felix would run these arguments through his head-- his own scripted show where he would give his father a detailed account of exactly how he ruined his life. He would shake in anger as he thought it through, relishing the feeling. Felix was never angry in real life, only in his daydreams. In real life, he was a diplomat, a peacekeeper. It was his job to walk on eggshells, to sidestep the crying and the screaming. To make sure that everyone else was okay. Real-life Felix might have sudden bursts of a thought he wanted to voice but he would stoically swallow it down, telling himself that it wasn’t worth it.
He would also swallow down the particularly nasty voice in his head that often called his bluff and taunted him-- "coward."
Felix would have good daydreams too, where he would imagine his happy family sitting around a dinner table, laughing as they discussed the day's events. There was a particularly happy one where his father took him into his office and proudly introduced him to his colleagues. Felix had then made him prouder still by solving an important problem that baffled even the brightest of scientists on the job.