by K. L. Denman
I crawl into bed, lie back, close my eyes. I can’t sleep. I feel like I’ve forgotten something important. Thoughts fly through my mind, swift and erratic as leaves on the wind. Melissa. Music. Manifesto. Map. Mountain. I realize that all of those things start with the letter M. Why am I stuck on M? More M words start skittering into my mind: motion, muscle, magic, magnificent, moan, mirth, meet. I can’t seem to stop them. Measles, mouth, modern, mitten, moon. The Ms are taking control of my mind. My mind. Me. Myself. More Ms!
I leap from my bed and pace. There has to be a way to stop this. What letter comes after M? In a flash, I have it. N. Yes, it’s N. For nano. It’s them again, trying to block me from seeing their nasty work. Nasty, night, nincompoop. Terminano. I’ve got it now. The terminanos are on the move. Snap! That’s what I forgot. The letter to the governments. The warning. I must write the warning.
To Whom Concern:
Leaders of the Planet Earth
I Must warn that world in great danger!!!!!!!!!!!! All persons who have tattooed have been injected with nano robots which programmed to take control their host bodies. I don’t know who or what is behind this plot but you act swiftly to put a stop to this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I self was injected with nanos called Terminanos when tattoo at Tony’s Tattoo parlor in Nanaimo but Managed detect their presence quickly to neutralize the swarM. While still some renegade terminanos on loose in body their numbers few to control me entirely I dead very soon due to primary Mission but not leave without telling you this first Good luck
Kit Latimer
I read over the letter and wonder if I should add more in the way of evidence, but I think I’ve covered the main points. I don’t have time to print and mail a bunch of paper copies so I start surfing the net for contacts on government websites. I e-mail Canada first, then the USA, Russia, England, India, Australia…Suddenly the task seems overwhelming. I can’t e-mail every country in the world, not in the time I have. So I send a copy to the High Commissioner for Human Rights at the United Nations. Another to the Pope in Rome, then one to the Dalai Lama. Then my mind just goes blank. I’m exhausted. I can do no more.
THIRTEEN
When Mom tries to get me up for school, I can’t even respond. I just can’t. After a while she gives up and goes away, and I go back to sleep. It’s early afternoon by the time I wake up, and that’s only because I need to pee and I need to eat. I do both and feel way better, until I realize that I just ate one of my last meals. Peanut butter on toast, a banana, a chunk of cheese and about ten chocolate chip cookies with a tall glass of milk.
Was this a good choice? Is this a typical meal? How should I know? I can imagine what Ike would say. He’d say I should have researched this, got some statistics to work with so I’d know. Too late now.
I go to my room and start packing. Baseball hat, check. Card collection in Baggie, check. Junk food, check. Condoms, check. Weed and meth, check. Seashell fossils, check. Lego, check. Map book and Bible, check. I stuff in a couple of textbooks— geography and biology—then try to decide what to put in next. The vodka! I grab that out of the closet and put it in my backpack. I haul out the clothes I’ll need too: winter coat, gloves, tuque, hiking boots. I don’t know if my boots will work for walking on ice, but they’ll have to do.
The thought of walking on ice reminds me: I need to print the map of the trails in the park. The first printing goes goofy, with a squiggle through the middle, but the second one is perfect and I fold it carefully, tuck it into a pocket on my pack. I look around. All that’s left is the Blackberry and my computer. I need to make the video for the Blackberry, but it feels stupid to do that by myself. Maybe I’ll wait and do it on the mountain with Ike. Yeah, for sure, that’ll be better. I stuff the Blackberry in my pack too and now…
What was that noise? Someone just came into the house. I heard the door. Ike? No, he said he’d come tonight. Maybe Fred? I scramble to hide the pack and the clothes in my closet, then I carefully open my bedroom door. What if one of the governments has tracked my e-mail and sent a representative to talk to me? Could it happen that fast? I think it could.
Cupboard doors bang in the kitchen, pots clatter, cutlery rattles. Mom? Damn. It’s that late already? I take a deep breath. It’s okay. I’m ready. The only thing left to do is the manifesto, and I can do that after supper. I take another breath and notice something. Fred was right. I smell bad. It’s not that long since I showered, is it?
I take a shower and when I come out, I feel great. I’m ready. I go downstairs and find Mom, Dad and Fred all hanging out in the kitchen. They stop talking and stare at me.
“What?” I ask.
Nobody says anything for a minute, and then Mom says, “Are you feeling better?”
I nod.
“Good. That’s good, Kit.”
Fred makes a show of sniffing the air and says, “He smells better too. Is that my cologne?”
He doesn’t sound mad, so I nod again.
He grins. “Yeah? Maybe I know why you want to smell good. Maybe something to do with a certain girl?”
Dad looks up. “A girl? You got a girlfriend, Kit?”
“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” I say.
“No?” Fred rolls his eyes. “I happened to run into Melissa today, at the store. She said she was hanging out with you yesterday.”
My stomach does a flip, and I step toward Fred. “What did she say?”
“Whoa, easy, dude. Is it supposed to be top secret or what?”
I look straight at him and can’t tell if his grin means he knows about the drugs or not. It seems like he knows something. I can’t stand to look at him. I turn to Mom and ask, “What’s for dinner?”
“Food,” she says. It’s one of those stupid jokes of hers. She thinks it’s funny to just say food, even now, when it’s so important.
“Are you seeing Melissa again?” Dad asks.
“I’m not sure that’s such a great idea,” Mom says.
“Why not?” Fred asks.
“Because, after the last time…” She lets it hang.
“I’M NOT SEEING HER! FRED’S FULL OF SHIT! GOD. HE MAKES ME SICK!”
Silence again.
Fred bangs his fist on the table. Leaves the room.
I wish I’d said good-bye to him.
My last meal is chicken with pasta and salad. Very typical, for my house anyway. There’s store-bought carrot cake for dessert, and I eat that too. I say, “Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad.”
They hesitate; then in unison they say, “You’re welcome, Kit.”
I go to my room. I open up the manifesto on my computer but no words come to me. Not good. I have to do this. I drum my fingers on my desk and wait for inspiration, but instead I think about Fred. Why did he have to see Melissa? I have this woozy sensation in my gut, a sickly sort of fear that she told him about the drug deal.
I should call her. Ask her. Once I’ve got that cleared up, I’ll be able to write. What should I say? Just ask her flat out if she is a narc? No. That would be wrong. Don’t want her to get mad at me. Mad. That’s an M word. Oh, man. Man? I don’t want to get mugged by them again. Mugged. No. I won’t let it happen.
Melissa. There’s more (More) to her than M. Think, Kit. Her phone number. I know her phone number. The sequence flits through my mind (Mind) and I run downstairs to get the phone. I take it back to my room and tap my fingers lightly over the keys. Yes. I know the number. I called it enough times it’s engraved in my memory (Memory).
I feel a growing desperation. This is so messed up (Messed). I bang my fist on my desk and the noise helps clear my thoughts. Maybe (Maybe) the sting of pain helps too. I shake out my hand and stare at the reddened skin; it reminds me of another time I slammed my fist into a wall, and I guess that was because of Melissa too, but I can’t remember the details.
Melissa used to see me. Really see me. Her eyes are this incredible shade, like a blend of chocolate and amber, and when she looked at me, it was like I was the only thing she saw.
It felt like I filled her vision, and that look made me so much more than I was. We went to this little café one time, the sort that plays old-school music, and this song came on, “I Only Have Eyes for You,” and Melissa looked at me and smiled. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to, but I felt like she was the one singing those words for me, and I thought it would be like that forever. Her gaze on me, that rapt attention when I spoke; the way she laughed at my lame jokes; the way she just got right inside my space, snuggled up like a kitten, close and warm.
It was as if she brought me out of myself, or maybe as if she invited herself in, I don’t know. Either way, she got close. Closer than anybody. And then she took herself away. I can’t blame her for that. I finally understand. She wouldn’t be the girl I know she is if she chose to stay with someone like me, would she? She’s way out of my league. My fingers find the keys on the phone pad, and her mom answers. I say, “Hello, could I please speak to Melissa?” and her mom says, “Just a minute, please.”
And then Melissa says, “Hello?”
Heat floods through me, settles in my skin, and I croak, “Hey. It’s me.”
“Kit?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Hey.”
“Listen, I just had to tell you. I understand. It’s all right.”
“What are you talking about?” she asks.
She doesn’t know? That’s strange. “About us. I get it now. You were way too good for me, right? I’m glad you figured it out.”
Silence. And then, “Kit, are you okay?”
“Totally. Yeah. Absolutely. I’m good.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Why not?”
A sigh. “Kit…This is weird, don’t you think?”
“What’s weird?”
“It’s been, what, over three months? I just…Okay. Cool. I don’t want to go there again. I’m glad that you’re good. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll see you around, eh?”
“Um, yeah. Sure. But, Melissa?”
“What?”
“You saw Fred today?”
“Yeah. So?”
“So you didn’t, you know, say anything to him about the, uh, drugs, right?”
“Excuse me?”
“Never mind. Forget it. I know you wouldn’t. It’s cool. What were you doing there, anyway?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Just wondered.”
“I was with Chelsea. Her boyfriend smokes weed and…Whatever. Listen, I’ve got to go, okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, “me too. Big time.”
“Bye, Kit.”
I can’t say good-bye so I just hang up and sit there with the phone in my hand. When it rings, I’m so startled I drop it. I pick it up and find one of Mom’s friends asking for her. Not Melissa? I don’t say anything and a tiny distant voice from the phone starts going, “Hello? Hello?”
I click it off again, take the phone downstairs, and by the time I get there, it’s ringing again. Damn! So annoying. I watch it ring until Mom comes to get it. For no reason, she gives me a strange look, and I know I have to hurry.
FOURTEEN
Hurry. What is it I must do? I know. Finish my manifesto, the final category.
Category Seven: Reality
I write about this because I don’t think any1 knows what is reality or truth We do not know that either For exaMple if there was a car accident and five witnesses each of theM would describe it just a little differently. All of theM would think they were telling the truth but there would be differences So how can we find the truth? If two people you know get an argument and both of theM tell you it will sound like two things happened and unless you were there you wouldn’t know for sure what happened. Even then you Might not There’s this experiMent I heard about on the radio SoMe scientists Made a Machine that slice pennies up in randoM The pennies could split through the center or be cut in half and the scientists designed this so they could not see which slice was done by the Machine. Then they placed pennies in envelopes and Mailed to different people When those people got their envelope they called the scientists and asked What cut of the penny did I get?
The scientists said, Whatever one you think you got And there’s the weird part Sure enough the recipient would think okay i got the side of the penny with a head on it and open the envelope and there it was Reality is what you expect it to be. Matter behaves differently when it is observed Can’t reMeMber how they know what it’s doing when they’re not looking but they can tell the difference There’s another experiMent They took soMe Microscopic cells out of the Mouth of a subject along with soMe saliva and put that in another rooM then had the person watch Movies that caused eMotions—happy sad angry. When people had eMotions there were tiny changes detected in the cells in the other rooM. Which is Maybe why happy people tend to get sick less often their cells are happier too. So in this experiMent they hooked a sensor to the cell/ saliva Mix in the other rooM and guess what As soon as the person experienced an eMotion there were cheMical changes in the cell saliva Mix in the other rooM that showed they were reacting!!!!!
Not sure what this has to do with reality but it seeMs to Me that we are More connected than we think. The air isn’t eMpty is it? It’s a Mixture of gases that are Made up of known particles like baryons when we Move we don’t take our bodies with us Our essence siMply follows our intention then flows and reforMs into what looks like a solid body out of the particles we Moved into.
Also Einsteins theory of relativity which I don’t really understand but I know explains soMe things about space tiMe and light. TiMe Moves More slowly on top of a Mountain or in space ship going away from earth than at sea level because the closer the clock is to the gravity source earth the More tiMe speeds up It does seeM that when we go up the Mountain tonight my tiMe will slow down which could be good because it’s been speeding up and I’M not really saying what Maybe this………………reality is what we think it is
And it’s different for everyone and nobody can say their reality is better than soMeone elses because how know??????????? And if a person went to heaven then their heaven just exactly what they want with the right birds and plants and Maybe their old dog We had dog naMed Harry and he shed everywhere so MoM never wanted to get another one after died and she went to work and didn’t have time to clean I loved harry and get to see hiM again in My heaven which is close now and has My younger self in it because i get to choose what i coMe back as when not the tiMe of this when he never knew he couldn’t do anything that he had awful destiny to freeze death alone because soMeone has to do it iMportant
It’s done. I look over what I’ve written and it looks strange, almost like I didn’t do it, but there’s no time to change it. I hit the Print button and the printer spews out my manifesto. I save the document on my computer too, and then I turn it off and unplug it. I fold the manifesto carefully, put it in an envelope, then go to the kitchen and grab several plastic bags. What is it they say about plastic? It’ll last forever? That’s good in this case because it will keep my manifesto safe. I get one of those big plastic garbage bags too, big enough to put my whole backpack inside. From the living room, Dad asks, “What are you doing in there, Kit?”
“Nothing. I’m going to bed now.”
“Yeah? Well, good night, then.”
Mom echoes him. “Good night, Kit. Hope you have a good sleep.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. A good sleep? I don’t think so.
I wait in my room with the light off, wait for my parents to go to bed, wait longer for them to fall asleep. I listen outside their door, and sure enough, Dad is snoring, Mom too, the pair of them making a weird harmony. I go back to my room, put on all my mountain clothes, pick up my pack and creep downstairs to the kitchen. Mom’s car keys are right there on the hook. I take them and go outside to the car. Put my pack in. Go into the garage and find the old sled. I put it in the car. I go back up to my room and get my computer, take it downstairs, put it in the car. I should wrap it in
a few layers of plastic too. I get more garbage bags for that, and when I get back to the car, there’s Ike.
“Dude. You’re actually ready?”
“I am.”
“Well, whaddaya know? Freakin’ amazing. So let’s go, eh?”
I nod. I get behind the wheel, take one last look at my house, and we’re off. Within minutes we’re on the highway, heading north.
“You know the way?” Ike asks.
“No problem. I’ve been to the park lots of times. Maybe not in the dark, but we’ll notice the turnoff for Mount Washington.”
“Mount Washington? We’re not going skiing, you idiot.”
“Did I say we were? That’s just where we turn off the highway, okay?”
Ike grunts. “Yeah? Well, I’ll believe it when I see it.”
I switch on the radio and crank the volume. That keeps him quiet for a while. It’s a short drive to the turnoff, and then we’re on the Strathcona Parkway. We don’t pass a single other car, and I glance down at the clock and note that it’s just after one in the morning.
I turn down the radio. “Uh, Ike?”
“What?”
“It’s going to be pitch-dark when we get there. Think we should just wait in the car until dawn?”
“Ah, man, I don’t know. Did you bring any food?”
“Just some junk-food samples.”
“Well that’s retarded. What about your last meal?”
“I ate dinner.”
“And you think that’s going to hold you for a day of hiking? Go back.”
“Go back? You want to call it off?”
“I don’t mean back back, stupid. I mean just go to a drive-through and we’ll grab a few burgers or something. Beats sitting around in a freakin’ freezing car in the dark, doesn’t it?”
He’s got a point. I brake and turn the car around. Then I think to check the gas gauge. “We don’t have enough gas to go back.”
“Well, we’ll just have to get some, won’t we? You do have some cash, don’t you?”