The Strange

by Masha du Toit

  “Hi! Hello. Elke!” Diesel was making her way along the platform, smiling in welcome. “Hi guys! So, you got here safely. Sorry, were you waiting long? Nice to see you all again!”

  “Diesel”—Elke nodded towards Tomas—“ this is Aspirant Tomas September and his gardag Danger. The new trainees.”

  “Ma’am!” barked Tomas, snapping a salute.

  “Oh. Um. Hallo?” Diesel looked a little taken aback.

  “Listen guys,” Elke waited till she had all three children’s attention. “I’ve got to get back to work, but Diesel will give you a tour, and show you where you’ll be sleeping.” She turned to Tomas. “You and Danger stick with me. We need to check you in at customs, as you’re here on workers’ papers. Do you know if they’ve assigned you somewhere to stay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Tomas drew some papers from a pocket. “It’s all here.”

  “Good.” Elke turned to the kids again. “I’ll see you later, okay? We’ll have a meeting this evening.”

  “And we’ll talk about Mom?” asked Isabeau. She turned to Tomas. “We’re looking for our mother. She’s missing.”

  Noor put a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Issy.” Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment.

  “Okay,” said Diesel, as if she’d not noticed anything. “Let’s get going. Are these your bags? You didn’t bring much, did you? Great. Okay, Elke.” She flashed Elke a grin. “See you later.”

  ¤¤¤

  The glim-clerk at the customs counter stamped all Tomas’s papers and gave him a package and a small book.

  “That’s your uniform.” Elke gave the package a pat. “And that’s your log book. You’ll need that for when you get paid.”

  “I get paid while I’m still in training?” Tomas looked surprised.

  “Absolutely. Not much, but it’s better than nothing.” Elke watched as Tomas stowed his new possessions in his bag. “So where are you staying?”

  Tomas unfolded his papers and showed them to Elke. “Here’s the address they gave me.”

  “Good,” she said, reading the cubby number. “That’s on Long Storage. Not too far from my place. Let’s go drop your stuff at your cubby, and then we’ll go to the office. Don’t have time for a proper tour, so you’ll just have to pick things up as we go along.”

  She set off down the corridor, following Meisje who was trotting off already. “Do you know much about the place?”

  “About the Eye?” Tomas fell in half a step behind her. “Not really, ma’am. Just what everyone knows.”

  “Which is?”

  Tomas was silent for a few steps. “It’s mos like a space station, ma’am. Like a bridge between the worlds. The gates can’t open directly from one world into the other one, so the Eye’s like this in-between place.” He looked at the corridors branching off on either side, and the various shop-fronts and businesses they were passing. There were stacks of the huge cargo cans everywhere. “But this feels more like a harbour.”

  “Harbour is a good description,” said Elke. “The Eye’s like a cross between a space station and a border post. All the trade between the Real world and the Strange goes through here. And the other Eyes, of course. The Nexicos and Bifrost are much bigger, but Babylon was the first, as the tour-guide said.”

  They’d reached the entrance to the Zero level, and Elke had to raise her voice to be heard. “Do you know about the dexter and sinister phases?”

  “No, ma’am.” Danger followed on Tomas’s heel as they moved through the door and into Zero level. The two of them glanced about, wide-eyed.

  Elke supposed that the crowd here took some getting used to. Many people were normal enough, tourists or office workers, but there were quite a few Strangers too.

  A group of glims were hard at work nearby, loading cans onto a train. Their broad bodies were banded with horizontal tattoos and many had the blocky, three-fingered hands common to tin-jocks.

  Strangeside tourists swaggered by, showing a lot of skin the better to display the tattoos that signalled their status. Quite a few sported the latest in bio-hacks and body modifications. The hottest new fashion was for ferny growths on head and shoulders, an ideal setting for the tiny smaracht-birds that clung there like living jewels.

  “Dexter and sinister are important,” Elke said when she had Tomas’s attention again. She led the way towards a broad staircase, heading down. “They’re phases caused by the influence from the Real and the Strange worlds.

  “When the Real dominates, that’s the dexter phase, and realside tech can function. Anything electrical. And the sinister phase is when all the electronics shut down.”

  She gestured at the stairwell’s ceiling.

  “See those lights? Those are colls, strangeside tech. They don’t need electricity so they’re not affected. Otherwise things would go dark every time we’re in sinister. But the speakers, you see them? They’re electronic. They can only work when things are dexter. The music signals what phase we’re in, because it can only play when things are dexter. Make sense?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “That big door we went past back there on the first landing, that’s the entrance to the Short Storage level. We came in at Zero level, Short Storage is the level below that.”

  Tomas glanced at a signboard set into the wall.

  “The signage here is in strangeside script,” Elke explained. “So, you’ll need to figure things out for yourself, unless you can read it. Most of the cargo-cans get put in Short Storage for a while. Some businesses and offices there too. Right now, we’re going one more level down to Long Storage, that’s where your cubby is. Below that is the lowest level— Works. That’s maintenance, filters, compost heaps, pumps, everything needed to keep the Eye running.

  “You saw those levels above Zero where we came in? The first level above Zero is Gardens—offices, restaurants, and above that, the highest level is Solar, which is where the high-caste strangers, the eidola and geists, live.”

  “We’ll go up there too?” asked Tomas.

  “Absolutely. We patrol all the levels.” They’d reached the doors to Long Storage and pushed through. Streams of people were emerging from the cafeteria, and the air was pungent with the scents of food and grease.

  “That’s the cafeteria.” Elke indicated the entrance with the jerk of her chin. “You’ll eat there, most of the time. Food is free, and pretty good. What was your cubby number again?”

  Tomas glanced at his papers and read it out.

  “Your roost is along here.” Elke led him through a row of roosts, tall structures like enormous shelves, each filled with row upon row of metal boxes—the cubbies.

  “This one.” Elke gestured at a cubby set at ground level. “And that book of yours should have the number for the combination lock.”

  Tomas and Danger stared up at the roost. Years ago, when the roosts had first been constructed, each cubby must have been exactly like its neighbour, rows of identical metal hutches, each with a door and a shuttered opening for a window. Now, after decades of occupation, every cubby was a unique cell in the hive that was the roost.

  Some had balconies bolted on, others were all window. The metal walls had been painted, scraped down, and repainted, creating a lively, if rusty, patchwork. Ladders and walkways crisscrossed the roosts, and laundry-laden clothes-lines and hammocks were strung everywhere.

  After an initial struggle with the lock, Tomas managed to get his cubby open. Meisje and Elke waited outside while he changed into his new uniform and stowed his possessions. He emerged, smoothing the uniform jacket with a frown. “It’s only a jacket?”

  “That’s right. You wear whatever trousers and shirt you like with it. It’s just so people can know you’re a cop.”

  They set off again. “We’re going back up to Short Storage now,” Elke explained. “To Hoofdinspecteur Dolly Ngcobo’s office.”

  Once again, Tomas and Danger fell into step, a pace behind her. Elke had to fight the urge to glance back at them. The
young man’s silent, unquestioning obedience would take some getting used to.

  “You must be wondering what you’ll be doing here,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Elke pushed her way through the swinging doors to the stairway. “Well, for one thing, we’re a bit less formal around here.” She nodded a greeting to a group of glims going down to the Works. “You don’t have to call me ma’am. ‘Elke’ is fine. Dolly—you can call her ma’am, if you like.”

  Tomas didn’t respond, and Elke got a strong feeling that, deprived of his ‘yes, ma’am’, he simply didn't know what to say.

  “As for what you’ll be doing,” she went on, “at first, you’re pretty much just going to be following me around. Just figuring out what’s what so you’re ready to take over once I leave.” She glanced back at him, wondering what he made of all of this. “It’s all about keeping the peace. Most of the time, you’re just being visible, reminding people that the law exists. That’s why the daily patrols are so important.”

  They reached the entrance to Short Storage. The air was full of the clang and clatter of newly arrived cans being shifted off the hydraulic lifts.

  “Stuff happens,” Elke shouted. “People get drunk or get into fights with neighbours. It’s our job to get between them, de-escalate the situation.” Elke was pleased to see that so far, Tomas paid close attention to everything she said, and Danger, too, had his big, brown eyes and arum-lily-sized ears focused on her.

  “And of course, we’re always on the lookout for smuggling. Contraband travelling between the Strange and the Real. That’s the most serious crime you’re likely to come across. And here we are. This is the office.”

  Elke knocked and pushed the door all the way open.

  “Good morning,” said Dolly from behind her desk. Today she wore a striking silver-and-black striped head-wrap, and a beautifully tailored silver skirt.

  “Hoofdinspecteur Ngcobo,” said Elke. “This is Aspirant September.”

  Tomas snapped off a salute, then turned to Wozniak, who was draped over the chair at the folding table. Tomas hesitated, then simply nodded his greeting. Elke didn’t blame him. Wozniak did not inspire formality.

  “Veraart been showing you around already?” Dolly asked Tomas.

  “Yes, ma’am!” Tomas stood straighter than ever as Dolly inspected him.

  “And this is your gardag. What is his name?”

  “Danger, ma’am.”

  The big gardag and Dolly regarded one another with mutual interest.

  “Big,” said Dolly. “Young, too. Your other guests arrived safely, Veraart?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Elke. “Diesel’s giving them the tour.”

  “Good,” said Dolly. “I’ve got something for you. Now where— Ah. Here it is.” She picked up a sheet of paper. “Authorisation for you to search Kiprosomov’s quarters. You know where that is?”

  Elke nodded. “Sure.”

  “Well, go have a look. Might help us understand what happened to him.”

  ¤¤¤

  Meisje led the way to the stairs that went all the way down to Works level. Elke, following a few steps behind, quickly filled Tomas in about Kiprosomov.

  “You think it’s murder?” Tomas kept a hand on the rail as he went down the narrow stair. The metal treads had worn down over the years and they were slippery.

  “I don’t know,” said Elke. “It looks like an accident. Old guy. Liked to drink. Never been linked to any kind of smuggling or gang activity...”

  “You got gangs in here? Stranger gangs?” For the first time, Tomas dropped his formal tone, and sounded genuinely interested.

  “Absolutely.” Elke opened the hatch that led through to Works level, and waited as Tomas, Danger and Meisje climbed through. “The Strangers, they don’t call them gangs. They’re all about family. Kin. And then there are some realworlders with allegiances to gangs in the Real.”

  “That’s so cool.”

  Elke shot Tomas an amused glance. This young man clearly had more to him than his polite facade suggested.

  They’d come out close to a row of storage rooms, and Elke pointed to one of the doors. “That’s the one. Kiprosomov’s room. I’m going to let Meisje check around a bit first. She can tell us who’s been down here.”

  Tomas and Danger watched respectfully as Meisje sniffed along the corridor and around the doors.

  “Anything recent?” Elke asked when she was done.

  Meisje gave an affirmative “whuff”.

  “Old man? Drinker?”

  Meisje agreed.

  “Anyone else?”

  A negative twitch of the ears.

  “We don’t know for sure what this Kiprosomov smells like,” Elke said. “The remains we found in the incinerator don’t help much, but I’m pretty sure it’s him she’s smelling.”

  Elke turned the doorknob and grunted with surprise as the door swung open. “Not locked. Meisje, in you go. Danger, you too. See what you can smell.” She looked speculatively at Tomas for a moment. “You can mind-link with him?”

  Tomas’s hand went up to touch his temple. “External link only.”

  “Good enough. Do it.”

  Elke engaged her mind-link to Meisje and waited as the gardags did their inspection, bracing herself for the inflow of sensory information. Eyes closed, she allowed Meisje’s input to dominate her own.

  At first, all she could smell was Danger’s lively, masculine bouquet. Gradually other scents emerged. The pungent presence of old man, layer upon layer of stale sweat, a touch of urine, and the sharp, sweet note of alcohol. Dust. Decayed paper. A dark overlay of machine-oil and the thrill of turpentine threading through it all.

  The visual feed showed Meisje’s-eye-view of the tiny room, with none of the tell-tale glows that indicated weapons or drugs.

  Elke unlinked from Meisje and took a moment to orient herself to her own senses. “You can unlink,” she told Tomas. “Meisje, Danger, we’re coming in.”

  Inside the room, she looked around. “Neater than I’d have thought.”

  The place was tidy enough. A lifetime’s worth of clutter filled the shelves and cupboards, but everything was in its place, worn and faded, but clean.

  “Wow. Look at this.” Tomas pointed at a pinboard over the bed, that held row upon row of badges. Embroidered patches, stamped metal, even some that looked like they’d been carved from bone or ivory. Most were variations of the Prussian cross or the spread-winged Prussian eagle, but there were others, too. Elke recognised the emblems of Ulster and Anglia, even a tiny red Nipponese dragon.

  “You check the mattress, and under the bed, and in that cupboard,” she said. “I’ll do the shelves. Get Danger to double check anything you find.”

  “What are we looking for?” Tomas crouched down and peered under the bed.

  “Anything that’s out of place. Hardflasks. Tubes. Anything that catches your eye. Diary or address book. Notes. The gardags would have picked up on drugs, biologicals, or any weapons or ammunition, but you never know.”

  It didn’t take them long to search the room, although the amount of clutter slowed them down.

  “Guy sure liked his badges, nê.” Tomas opened yet another drawer of ranked pins. “This all must be worth a bit.”

  Elke looked at Tomas speculatively, from where she sat on the floor. “That’s true.” She rubbed a hand over her nose and mouth, trying to wipe away the dust. “But if somebody killed him for his collection, why is it still here? Come—” She patted the ground next to her, and after a moment’s hesitation, Tomas joined her on the floor.

  “External link, hey?” Elke peered at his face. “A diadem? I can hardly see it.”

  Tomas felt carefully at his temples, unhooked something and drew the barely visible strap over his head. “Ugh,” he said with a small shudder. “Always feels weird coming off.”

  Elke took the thing carefully, holding it up to the light. “Man. They’ve certainly come a long way since my day.
”

  It was a narrow, translucent band, shaped to fit around the back of a human head.

  “You achieve full mind-link with this thing?” Elke stroked a finger along its length.

  “It’s pretty good,” said Tomas. “They say it’s not as good as an internal. Not as intense.”

  “You should have seen the one I trained with.” Elke handed the diadem back to Tomas. “Looked like something from a horror film. Wires and clamps. Had to keep my horns filed right down or it would keep catching on them.”

  “It’s mos strangeside tech.” Tomas slid his diadem back into place. “Works with some kind of fungus. Little root-filaments pierce your skin to make a better connection.” He grimaced as he smoothed the ends onto his temples. “That freaked me out, at first.”

  “Is it electronic at all?”

  “It must be. It’s got a battery and when that runs out, the connection doesn’t work.” Tomas tapped the diadem. “So, I guess I’ll only be able to use it when things are—what’s it called again? Dexter?”

  “Hm. Got to keep that in mind.” Elke rubbed her nape thoughtfully. “I’ve had my internal for years now. The display is electronic, so I can only record and broadcast when things are dexter, but I can mind-link any time I want, because that’s controlled by the fungus.”

  Tomas shuddered theatrically. “Can’t wait.”

  Elke grinned, pleased at the rate that the boy was losing his self-conscious formality. She noticed Danger sitting at near the door, an intent expression on his jowly face. “I think your dog needs a pee.”

  “He does,” Tomas agreed. “But where?”

  “I’ll show you.” Elke rose to her feet. “We’ve got some compost heaps down here. He can pee and poop on them, if you pick a spot near the back.”

  “I wondered about that,” said Tomas, getting up too. “Come on Danger. Let’s go.”

  ¤¤¤

  Elke showed Danger the compost heaps, and he took to them with great enthusiasm, relieving himself and then sniffing out as many snacks as he could find.

  “He’s got a thing for carrots.” Tomas proudly brushed the peelings off Danger’s armoured facemask.