The Divers' Game

by Jesse Ball

  He trailed off.

  Will you help me look for this pouch?

  And with that they were gone! Off they went away from us, the pair, heads close together. He told her things and she did likewise. Their eyes ran along the ground, and into nooks and crannies, as if hunting. They did not know it, but they were late in a procession, thousands of couples who had walked in that exact line, for centuries, and though unaware, what they felt at that moment was not unlike what all these others had felt. How odd it is to think of human beings as separate—it seems so obvious, mustn’t they all be one continuous crying out? A vacuum of space, and to fill it, the slightest shout of life?

  If we run to catch them, we find that they know each other better. He is going to show her an atrium. It is just down that way.

  WHEN YOU MEET SOMEONE, HOW DO YOU DECIDE what you will know about them, what you will permit yourself to know, what you would like to know, what you would like not to know? It is only a few people in our lives about whom we want to know everything, isn’t that so?

  There’s nothing to do here but walk the corridors, said the boy.

  Yeah?

  It’s actually in my job description. We’re chosen because we fit the uniforms and because our voices and manners are right. We have no special skills.

  I would never have guessed, she said.

  I mean, I can do other things—but I don’t have to.

  Right.

  They went on and up a set of stairs that led to a balcony overlooking a large atrium with a hill and obelisk.

  Let’s sit here, she said, jumping up onto the stone balustrade.

  What she wanted to talk about was Ogias’ Day. The thought of it had just returned to her. While she had been thinking thoughts of the zoo, she had been far away within herself, but the open air and the sight of the hill and its grass brought with it a different mind. She remembered who she had been before coming to the zoo and who she would be after. Ogias’ Day! What would it be like?

  I am going with some friends, said the attendant. We will go to the Center. You know I, I’ve never been there.

  Lois laughed as if this was ridiculous. Strom looked at her and looked away. He was a bit hurt.

  I’m just laughing at you, she said. Why haven’t you been to the Center?

  What is there to do there but buy things? he said.

  I guess not much. I go to school there.

  How is that?

  Awful. Just awful.

  I was rated until twelve, and then they let me out.

  Lois looked at her feet kicking in the air, and far beneath, the ground. A hose was curled by a little tree. It hadn’t been put away properly. The atrium looked like no one ever went in it.

  What about you? he asked.

  I’m rated to twenty-six.

  Twenty-six? I’ve never met anyone rated to twenty-six. You must be fucking smart. I better watch what I say.

  Wait, but what is your base grade?

  Four.

  See, I’m a two. I think twelve is the max rating for base grade three and above. So you could have done the same as me on the test and it wouldn’t matter.

  He said he didn’t know any of that. Where did she hear it?

  She said they explained it in school.

  He said, maybe at her school . . .

  She looked at his face, which was rather finely put together. He had a small nose and large eyes, full lips. His eyes were, what color were they?

  What is it you can do? she asked.

  What can I do?

  You said before that the job doesn’t ask you to do anything but you can do things. So what can you do?

  He smirked, as if at himself, and took a little cardboard block out of his pocket, unfolded it. It was a drawing pad.

  He reached out, took her chin in his hand, and turned it to profile. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but she heard a scratching sound of something against the paper.

  What she could see was the windows on the other side of the atrium, past a dip in the hill. A woman was in a window wearing a gas mask. She had a gas mask on. Why would that be? She was very still. Ah, it was a statue. She recognized it now. The statue of Justice. A beautiful woman in a loose tunic that trembles in a stone wind with a stone sword and a stone mask. Her long hair flows down her back, and her thin neck seems almost too weak to carry all that weight. This was the ideal; each citizen must embody justice, must herself be an avatar of justice.

  Done.

  She turned and looked down.

  He had torn out the sheet, and he passed it to her.

  You can draw. This is so lovely.

  You do think a lot of yourself, don’t you?

  I don’t mean me, I mean the drawing is so, so professional.

  I just do it, I’m always doing it. You can have the drawing. It’s fine.

  They sat there quietly for a while, and she put the drawing inside the book she took from her bag and put the book back into the bag, and the bag back onto the railing. She took it out again and looked at it, and then put it away just as before.

  He said he heard on the last Ogias’ Day a lot of people died. Everything turns upside down. Freedom surprises people—they don’t know what to do with it. People who have been paying back debts for decades—and then the debt is just gone! It makes them crazy, especially if they know other people who did fuck all with their debts. And everyone’s in the same boat? What is that? You could see why people would be mad.

  Are you saying you think it’s a bad idea?

  No, no. I mean, I owe some. I’ve run it up pretty badly. You know, this job doesn’t pay much. I’m glad for it to stop.

  I don’t owe anything, she said. I still live at home.

  He snorted.

  The smart girl who lives with mom and dad.

  I heard, she said, that it isn’t just debt. It’s all bonds. So after tomorrow, no one is married. You’d have to get remarried. You have to reacquire your job. Everything’s started over. It’s a complete restart. They have to explain all this. That’s why everyone has to go to the announcement points.

  Can’t be true. I never heard any of that. My brother says, he says Ogias’ Day isn’t for us anyway. It’s more for people like you, people who own things. It’s a holiday to keep you owning the things you own.

  She laughed.

  I don’t own anything.

  The sun had gone down, and they were practically sitting in the dark. Lois remembered Lethe waiting out in front of the zoo, and she slid her legs back over the balustrade, jumped down, and ran away down the stairs, with him close behind, calling out, Lois, Lois, what is it?

  WHEN WE WANT TO GET TO SOMEONE AS BADLY AS that there are always impediments. She ran back along one hall, another. She found the place with the knocker. The door wheeled back, slower than before. She ran past all the cages, and past the last cage. The light was now turned off, although the guard was there in the dark. Through that last door. She found Mandred and he was ready to leave. They said good-bye to Ganner, and she pulled Mandred on through the doors, dragging him, but he was so slow. He couldn’t see the need to run, and wouldn’t. But Lethe! she said. It’s been so long.

  When they got to the front the doormen were gone from the gate, which was locked but could be passed through if you were going out. Out they went. Lois looked right and left, she dashed out onto the grass and turned a circle. No Lethe.

  Where did she go?

  Do you think she’s all right?

  It was very dark, and hard to see even halfway across the long lawn. The zoo was beautiful in the dimness, but Lois felt a horror in her heart, and even felt at fault. Should she have left her?

  Where was Lethe?

  Mandred made a show of looking, but he didn’t see anyone. He said so.

  Lethe!

  Lethe!

  Where did she go?

  3

  If we look for Lethe, we shall do so in a different way. We’ll go back to where we left her, and when Lois goes
running to join Mandred in the passage to the zoo, we will go out with Lethe onto the grass. Perhaps we should never have left her in the first place.

  She went there and lay down. The grass was what grass often is: soft and endless. Her arms reached out and it happened: that wonderful thing that happens when you reach your arms out in the grass—there is enough world to meet your fingers as far as you can stretch them! As far as you stretch them, you can feel the grass and the earth, and you wriggle your feet and there is more there too!

  She kicked off her shoes and lay there happily until two children came and spoke to her. Their little gas masks dangled from their necks in beautiful miniature.

  What are you doing?

  Just lying here, she said.

  But this is our lawn, said the little girl.

  Whose lawn?

  Ours. We’re the Fressinets.

  The Fressinets?

  I’m Benji, she’s Lucie. And that’s our dad. We come here all the time, and because we come here more than you, it’s ours. Our lawn. You have to ask permission. Today Lucie is the king of the lawn. I was the king yesterday, but today she is. You have to ask permission.

  She asked Lucie for permission to be on the lawn, and permission was granted. She was given a rank of some kind, which entitled her to lord it over anyone else who came. The two kids sat next to her, and all three blinked their eyes in the sunlight.

  The father came up then. He was a young father. You wouldn’t know he was one.

  And he said, Their mother’s gone, sorry they’re so attached to you, but their mother’s gone.

  I’m sorry. That’s hard.

  The kids looked anywhere but at her.

  When your mother’s gone, there’s not much to do but try to find a new one, even if it’s just for a little while, even for an afternoon.

  He spoke intently, and Lethe didn’t like it. She felt uncomfortable, but she couldn’t wriggle out. He was holding her in his gaze, and the children were like anchors on either side. She started to get up, but one of the kids took her hand.

  Where are you going?

  I was just going to go for a walk over there.

  She pointed to the trees.

  Okay. Lucie and I will stay here, said the man. You can take Benji to the trees. We’ll see you in a bit.

  The king gives you permission to go, said Lucie.

  The man winked and sat down.

  Have fun.

  All right, Benji.

  She took the child’s hand; they headed for the trees, at a run.

  You’re much prettier than my mother was, said Benji, giggling.

  Oh?

  Yeah, she was not much to look at, that’s what Dad says. But they got together anyway. I have a picture of her, but I’m not allowed to see it. We keep it in a box. Do you like us?

  Sure I do.

  They got to the trees, and she saw that there was just a shallow line of trees before a metal fence stopped any further progress. Then the forest began in earnest on the other side.

  Well, that won’t do us any good, she said. Here we go!

  They ran to the other side of the lawn, where the old birdcage was. Inside there were many dead limbs of trees for perching on, but nothing would perch there. She said something about this to the boy, who looked at her like she had three heads.

  Where are you from? Your accent is kind of funny.

  From the Center.

  Are you going back there?

  Yeah, I’m going to go back there pretty soon. In a few minutes, I think.

  Are you the same age as my mom?

  I don’t know. I don’t know what age she is.

  She isn’t any age now. She’s gone.

  Benji clutched at her hand.

  Do you like it here?

  Yes, it’s very nice.

  We come here all the time. Every day. Yesterday we met someone like you. The day before we met two boys who hit Lucie. They were my size, but I didn’t do anything.

  Why?

  Lucie was siding with them, and then they turned on her. So I was on my own side.

  They crossed the lawn again and came to the father and daughter.

  Well, I’m going, said Lethe. Nice to meet you.

  That was fast, said the man.

  Right, said Lethe. Good-bye Benji, good-bye Lucie.

  You have to ask permission, said Lucie. From the king.

  Do I have your permission to go?

  Of course!

  Lucie gave Lethe’s leg a hug.

  Lethe put her shoes on and walked away. As she went Lucie said something, something quiet, and Benji replied, She’s not like Mom. She’s not like Mom at all.

  LETHE FIGURED MANDRED AND LOIS WOULD GET BACK on their own just fine. It was crazy to sit outside the zoo for hours. She couldn’t possibly do that. Why should she?

  She went along the path the way they had come, and across the bridge painted with animals. A couple guys were standing in the middle. The passage was narrow and she had to turn sideways to get by them. They just looked full at her and said nothing. When she looked back they were still watching her. One smiled, but it wasn’t a smile for her to share.

  When she got to the station she noticed how broken-down it was. Somehow on arrival it had seemed quite grand, but now it was a hovel. The benches were even, then slumped, then even. The way things break is so horrifying—because things break in and of themselves. They don’t even need to be destroyed from without. The mild pressure of life, and the world falls apart.

  It was hot in the sun. She took off her sweater and wrapped it around her waist. She sat and stared across to the other platform. There was no one there and nothing moving. She took out her book and leafed through the pages absently, not reading really.

  After a few minutes she heard steps. She didn’t want to turn to look because she guessed who it was. The steps were heavy, and they came slow, one after another. They stopped behind her. Just at that moment the train came into the station, and she felt relief. She stood and skipped forward through the doors, trying not to look frightened. But the person behind her came too.

  Lethe sat in the seat immediately by the door, and a man walked past, one of the men from the bridge. He sat farther down the car. But then he stood and came and sat in the box behind her. Then he stood again and came and sat opposite her.

  You don’t mind, do you? he said.

  She looked down at her feet, trying not to meet his gaze.

  Where you going? Girl, where you going?

  The train swung along on its way. The creed sounded, and she stood to say it but the man did not. He stared at her legs and chest as she chanted. She wished she’d kept her sweater on, her heart was in her throat. His hands were inches away from her, and she was terrified he would suddenly touch her, at any moment it would happen.

  But the creed ended. She sat again and was practically trembling. The train pulled into the next station. She hardly knew what station it was, but she jumped up and ran off, ran onto the platform and down the steps, out into a crowded street and across it, down one block and another, dodging and bumping passersby. Her legs were just pulsing beneath her, sending her on. Her lungs were heaving. She ran and ran and ran around a corner. She leaned against a wall and almost collapsed with relief. There was no one coming. She wasn’t followed. She was safe.

  LETHE TOOK STOCK OF WHERE SHE WAS. ON THE STREET right in front of her there was an open-air market selling shabby fruit and vegetables. There was a barbershop opposite, and a pawnshop. Some children were playing a game that was broken up each time a car came. They would shake their fists at the cars and start again, shake their fists at the cars and start again. The people coming and going looked pretty beaten down. Their clothes were dingy, their masks looked outdated. There were more people here and there without masks, wearing the mandatory uniclothes that changed color if they came near the gas.

  She felt she stuck out. Everyone must notice her. But nobody really did, and she walked on, up one
street and down another. She was trying to find her way back to the train station, but it was a riddle she couldn’t solve, one for which she seemed to have no tools. She ended up going farther and farther away from the train station, wherever it was, until she found herself at the edge of a great green expanse, a park.

  HAVE YOU EVER COME UPON A PARK IN THIS WAY—OUT on a solitary sojourn? Do you know the secret delight of possession—of feeling it is your park because you found it? Because no one you know must know of it? How fine it is to venture into such a place, where you can have every last thing without worrying what anyone else has seen or thinks.

  So she was pulled—in this way—into the park. Perhaps if she had known the park’s name, she wouldn’t have gone. Perhaps she might have recognized it as a place to avoid at all costs. But it could as well be true that she had never heard the name, that no one had ever said it in her hearing, for why would they? Why would a person like her ever have cause to enter a place like that?

  LETHE WASN’T A GIRL WHO WOULD STAND OUT AMONG other girls. But if you did happen to see her by herself, you might think her remarkable, and if you did, then even when she was back with the others she would stand out for you, apart from them all, as a special kind of girl. There was something that she didn’t lose when with others, some part of herself when she was alone, and this was very attractive to those who could see such things. Whether she was pretty or not—many boys wanted to have her, and some girls too. She wasn’t against this, not in either case. She was not generally afraid of much, but she was extremely cautious. If there was someone who was hers, who had been hers, hers alone, it was Lois, although she had also been with others when the two of them went out. We speak of this so you can know what she imagined was in the eyes of the boys who were speaking to her.

  Lethe had entered the park. Meandering, she had lost herself in the beauty of the space. Hardly ever had she been so alone. It was a feeling that she didn’t know, a feeling she loved; she found she loved it, and wanted more. There are some of us who want nothing but to be alone. Are you that way? Lethe was, and it was this moment she discovered it, in the singing green space of the hills around Gall Roads.