The Memory Thieves

by Darren Simpson

  Faint sounds echoed through the emptiness: scuffing footsteps from nearby rooms; muffled snippets of conversation; creaks and groans from the ebony framework.

  “That,” said Cyan, “is a no-zone.”

  “But that’s just…ludicrous. It’s so dangerous.” Jonquil pointed down into the emptiness. “Look. Those rooms don’t even have walls to protect people from that fall.”

  “Yep. But the lockets won’t let residents anywhere near them. Just like yours didn’t want you to go near this door.”

  It took some time for Jonquil to speak. “But this…no-zone… Why’s it even here?”

  “Needs to be. Think of those puzzles with the sliding tiles again. They always have an empty space, right? What’s it for?”

  Jonquil was retreating from the door. “To make room to move tiles.”

  “Top marks.” Cyan let the door close. “And that’s what no-zones are. Empty spaces to allow the filled spaces to move.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Cyan snorted, but his smirk disappeared. “Hang on. You mean it?”

  Jonquil stooped and clutched her belly. “I just need…to sit down.”

  “Man alive…” Cyan glanced about before speaking into his locket. “Bathroom.” He frowned at its screen. “It’s a bit of a trek to the loos. They’re always at the edges of each floor; can’t move ’cos of the plumbing or whatever. But we went past a bedroom a second ago. It had its door open. We’ll go there and find somewhere to sit. And some sort of puke vessel. Just in case. Will you make it?”

  Jonquil nodded and Cyan led her through a hallway. They entered a bedroom, where two men in grey boiler suits were lugging a chest of drawers and clipping it to the floor.

  After making Jonquil sit on the bed’s edge, Cyan handed her a bin. “Just in case.”

  She clutched it to her chest as if holding on for dear life.

  The men in boiler suits looked on impassively. One of them spoke while placing a draughts set on top of the drawers. “New resident?”

  Cyan clicked his fingers. “Got it in one.”

  The second man piped up. “She’ll get used to it. They all do.”

  “Yup.” Cyan sat on the bed next to Jonquil. “By the way, if you have to spew, I’m only holding your hair back if you promise to miss my fingers. Deal?”

  Jonquil took a shuddering breath. “Deal.”

  “That’s a smell you just can’t wash away. Not even with a million years of scrubbing. You know what I mean?” He pulled a face. “Just thinking of that sick smell… Bleurgh. It’s enough to make me throw up right now. Like—”

  “I said deal.”

  One of the men chuckled. “Cyan takes some getting used to as well.”

  Jonquil looked up from her bin to watch the men get on with their business. They were moving about the room, swapping its furnishings with others laid out on a trolley. One of them hung a picture of a sea-straddling rainbow above the bed, while the other set a box of elaborate wooden puzzles on the floor.

  “What are they doing?” asked Jonquil.

  Cyan watched them too. “Well, it’s not just rooms that move around in the sanctuary. Things within the rooms move too. Even on the communal floor – the foyer, canteen, library and gym and all that – stuff gets moved around and changed all the time, usually overnight. That’s when the technicians, like these two, crawl out of the woodwork to make their little…adjustments.”

  Jonquil was shaking her head. Her cheeks puffed up while she pushed a deep breath through her mouth.

  Cyan laughed. “It’s part of the disorientation that keeps those memories away. You’ll get used to it, much quicker than you think. Before you know it, it’s the occasional day they leave things be that throws you.”

  “And what about that?” Jonquil nodded at one of the technicians, who was removing green clothes from a drawer and replacing them with red ones. “Let me guess: the uniform’s colour changes every day too?”

  “Exactly! You see? You’re getting the hang of things already.” Cyan grimaced at the closing drawer. “Shame it’s red tomorrow. Probably my least—”

  A bleeping from their pockets.

  Cyan took out his locket and flicked it open.

  Jonquil groaned. “Another shuffle?”

  “No. Dinner time.” Cyan grinned at her blanching face. “You hungry?”

  By the time they reached the canteen, Jonquil looked perkier. She’d managed to unfasten herself from her bin and had left it on a technician’s trolley somewhere in the upper rooms.

  The canteen rung with noise – with the chatter and clatter of residents and cutlery. Jonquil had to raise her voice. “The walk did me some good. I always feel better after exercise.”

  “Super.” Cyan was on the tips of his toes, eyeing the queue at the food counter. He scanned the rows of tables. “Aha! We’re in luck. Looks like Teal and Ruby got the same dinner shift.”

  Jonquil slowed to survey the bustling space and the mosaics on the walls. “Those patterns – they’re supposed to look like waves, right?” Her pupils rose. “And the lights on those ropes… They’re sort of like…what you’d imagine on old ships.”

  “Don’t get used to them. There’ll be something else there tomorrow. We’d better queue before all the good grub’s gone.”

  They’d soon filled their trays with macaroni cheese and rhubarb crumble. As they left the counter Cyan heard someone call his name. He turned and saw Dr Haven at a staff table, with Ms Ferryman and Professor Vadasz on either side of him. Dr Haven beckoned with a friendly flap of the hand.

  As they headed over, Cyan spoke through the side of his mouth. “See that old guy next to Dr Haven? With the lab coat and don’t-care hair? That’s Professor Vadasz.”

  “Vadasz?” Jonquil squinted at the professor. “He doesn’t look like a Vadasz. That sounds…I dunno, European? He looks like he’s from East Asia or something.”

  “I don’t think the staff here use their real names.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not sure.” Cyan slowed a little. “Never really thought about it.” He frowned and picked up his pace. “Anyway, when we get to him, tell him how impressed you were by the shuffle. He always gets in a flap when residents call it that.”

  “Um.” Jonquil seemed unsure. “I’m not sure I fancy upsetting him.”

  “He won’t mind if you do it. You’re new. Still learning.”

  Jonquil didn’t look keen.

  “You don’t have to,” whispered Cyan, smiling again now. “But it’d be a terrible waste.”

  When they reached the staff table, Dr Haven placed his knife and fork – in perfect symmetry – at each side of his steak, which had been sliced into neat, even segments. He dabbed his lips with a napkin. “Jonquil, how’s your first day been?” His grey eyes lingered on her face, watching her expression.

  Jonquil nodded meekly. “Good…I think. Cyan’s been a great guide.”

  “Is that so?” The director raised a grey eyebrow at Cyan.

  Cyan opened his mouth in exaggerated shock. “You sound surprised, Dr Haven.”

  Dr Haven smiled slyly. “You’ll never surprise me, Cyan. Now, Jonquil, you’ve met Ms Ferryman…”

  Ms Ferryman looked up from her meal, gave Jonquil a curt nod.

  “Yes,” replied Jonquil. “We’ve met.”

  “And what about the professor?”

  The man on Dr Haven’s other side shot up to clutch Jonquil’s hand. His words were as brisk as his handshake. “Pleased to meet you, Jonquil. I’m Professor Vadasz. I look after the technical side of things here – the mechanisms, engineers, programmers and so on.”

  Cyan tapped Jonquil’s ankle with his foot. She met his eyes briefly, swallowed subtly and returned the professor’s smile. “I saw the…shuffle earlier. It’s really something.”

  The professor froze. Every inch of him was still – apart from his eyelids, which fluttered for several seconds.

  Cyan did his best to re
press a smirk, but couldn’t help cringing when Ms Ferryman shook her head at him.

  The professor finally spoke. “Shuffle,” he repeated, forcing the word between his lips.

  He straightened up, puffing out his narrow chest. “Jonquil. The term we use here at the Elsewhere Sanctuary is reconfiguration. Reconfiguration.” He drew out the word, labouring carefully over each syllable. “What takes place when the sanctuary reconfigures is as far from a…shuffle as anything can get. The term ‘shuffle’ suggests randomness, and I assure you, not a speck of chance is permitted in the process. It demands an incredibly exact science to have those rooms and walls rearrange in a way that not only avoids collision, but also allows the building to remain functional. A very advanced computer algorithm is required, which achieves the equivalent of traffic control in a city made of moving roads. Can you appreciate that, Jonquil?”

  Jonquil stared at him momentarily, before blinking and nodding. “Yes, Professor.”

  Professor Vadasz’s smile returned. “Then there’ll be no more talk of shuffles.”

  Ms Ferryman cleared her throat. Her dark lips and forehead were creased in disapproval. “Cyan. I think you’d better take Jonquil to a table. You must both be hungry.”

  Cyan beamed and slapped his belly. “As a horse, Ms Ferryman. Sometime-somewhere!”

  With a tap of his non-existent cap, he spun on his heels and guided Jonquil across the canteen to where Ruby and Teal were eating. “Ahoy! Mind if we join you?”

  Ruby’s freckles – dark against her tawny brown skin – gathered while she wrinkled her nose. “Hugely.”

  Cyan plopped his tray down, took a seat and gestured to Jonquil to do the same. “Jonquil, meet Teal and Ruby. Teal and Ruby, meet Jonquil.”

  “Ahoy, Jonquil,” chorused the pair.

  Cyan opened his mouth, hit by an urge to tell his friends what he’d seen at the whale bones – to ask Ruby and Teal what they made of it all. Between green and red. S-7270. But he caught himself and – glancing sourly at Dr Haven’s table – realized how keen he was to get it off his chest. Somehow the bones were still bothering him.

  memory thieves

  fight don’t forget

  “So, Jonquil…” Teal straightened his wire spectacles with one hand, while using the other to point his fork at Jonquil. “We saw you talking to Professor Vadasz. You said the word, right?”

  “Shuffle?”

  Teal and Ruby froze and fluttered their eyelids in a parody of the professor, before giving in to giggles.

  Cyan laughed along with them and felt a little better. He saw Jonquil smiling too, finally starting on her food.

  Ruby swept a hand through her copper-brown curls. “How do you like the sanctuary, Jonquil?”

  Jonquil chewed thoughtfully. “It’s…a lot to take in. I mean, like, a lot.”

  “You’ll settle in. It gets pretty blah.” Without even a glance downwards, Ruby clutched the small cup of pills on her tray and tossed its contents into her mouth, before washing them down with some juice.

  Cyan and Teal did the same with their own cups, then looked expectantly at Jonquil.

  Jonquil’s eyes moved to the pills – to their many shapes and pastel hues – in the paper cup on her tray. After nibbling her lower lip, she tipped them slowly into her mouth and gulped down some water.

  Ruby shovelled cheesy pasta onto her fork. “Yeah, it’s pretty chilled here. And there’s loads of fun stuff to do.” She popped the fork into her mouth and spoke around her food. “What did you make of the shuffle?”

  Jonquil chewed slowly and swallowed. “It was…kind of intense.”

  “Just stay in your snug whenever it happens.” Ruby’s eyes met Teal’s and Cyan’s. “Remember what happened to Moss…”

  The boys nodded as one.

  “Poor Moss,” whispered Teal, giving a brisk shudder.

  Jonquil cocked her head to one side. “Moss?”

  Cyan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Moss was one of the sanctuary’s earliest residents. Supposedly fell out of his snug during a shuffle. Got mashed up between a moving wall and floor.”

  Jonquil’s knife and fork clattered to her plate.

  Ruby picked some macaroni from her teeth. “Rest in pieces, Moss.”

  “I’m not sure it’s true, though,” said Cyan. “Moss might be a myth. A bogeyman to keep residents in their snugs.”

  Teal was loosening his collar and scratching vigorously at his neck. “I think it really happened. Those rooms move about way too fast.”

  Cyan’s fork met some burned, blackened pasta. He pushed it to the edge of his plate and hid it beneath a salad leaf.

  “God, Teal!” It was Ruby. “Can you stop scratching yourself like that? You’re putting me off my food.”

  “It’s Cyan’s fault. Boy racer here got sand all over me while he was skidding about on his quad.”

  Cyan began to smile.

  “You nearly knocked me over! Do you even open your eyes when you’re riding those things?”

  Cyan laughed. He could feel the pills from his paper cup taking effect. A tingling numbness spread from his forehead to the backs of his hands, and he found himself wondering why he’d been so worried about the whale bones. He smiled and rubbed his neck, enjoying the tingle on his scalp. Dr Haven was right. What he’d seen was just graffiti. Meaningless nonsense.

  Teal was still fussing. “Even Fern drives better than you, and he’s like…eight or something.”

  Cyan rolled his eyes and smiled at Jonquil. “One thing you’ll quickly learn about Teal is that he loves to stress.”

  Teal’s hands were in the air. “No I don’t!”

  “Yeah, you do. You’re always looking for stuff to worry about. I asked Dr Haven about it once.”

  Teal crossed his arms. “I bet you didn’t.”

  “I did.”

  Teal’s arms began to unknot. “Seriously?” He leaned towards Cyan, his eyes growing large behind his glasses. “What did he say?”

  “It’s just a tendency in your character. He said it shouldn’t be any cause for concern.”

  Teal’s chin dropped. “Shouldn’t? What’s he mean?”

  “Well, I can’t remember his exact words.” Cyan saw the panic mounting in Teal’s eyes. “Actually, I’m pretty sure he said it’s not a cause for concern.”

  “No, you said shouldn’t! And shouldn’t means ‘might’, right? It means there’s a chance my worrying’ll lead to something that…that is a cause for concern. What if…” His words trailed off and he stared at his plate.

  Ruby hooted and thumped him playfully on the arm. “I can’t believe it, Teal. You’re actually worrying about worrying. That’s amazing, even for you.”

  Teal straightened on his chair. “Yeah? Well if it’s amazing to care about stuff – unlike some people around here –” he eyed Cyan meaningfully – “then yeah, I’m amazing.”

  Ruby patted his forearm where she’d hit him, then drummed Jonquil’s hand with the butt of her knife. “So, Jonquil, how far away is the sea?”

  “How far?”

  Ruby was bobbing on her seat. “Yeah. Did you get an idea from your helicopter ride?”

  “I couldn’t tell. The pilot put a blindfold on me before we took off. But the sea can’t be far, right? I saw the harbour outside. And the lighthouse.”

  “Sure,” said Ruby. “The lighthouse is boarded up, though. And you can’t see the sea, even from high up on the helipad.”

  Jonquil gave this some thought. “Oh. That’s true, I guess. I figured the tide was out?”

  “Bit far for the tide to go out, isn’t it?”

  Cyan pushed some salad around his plate. “The tide never comes in, Jonquil. It went out and never came back.”

  Jonquil’s brow crumpled. She scratched the long bridge of her nose. “How’s that possible?”

  Cyan shrugged. “Dunno. I overheard some staff talking about it once. Could be industrial irrigation. Or chemicals and pollution, but they weren�
��t sure. They’re as clueless as we are about where the island is or why the sea’s receded. But yeah, the tide’s gone for good. I can’t remember the last time I saw the sea. None of us can. And we go pretty far out on the sands.”

  Jonquil’s knife and fork were still on her plate. Her mouth hung open for some moments. “So even the staff don’t know where we are? Or where this island actually is?”

  “Well, I guess the helicopter pilot must have some bearings. And the hovercraft pilots too. But Ms Ferryman told me new staff wear blindfolds when they’re flown in. Dr Haven’s pretty thorough in keeping us cut off from things. It’s for our own good.”

  “Cut off,” murmured Jonquil. “And the rest of the world…” Her gaze fell to her hands. “Our old lives…”

  “That’s why you came here, right? To get away and forget?” Cyan frowned. “Hey. You okay?”

  He leaned a little closer to Jonquil. Teal and Ruby did the same, and all three of them gawped at the tears welling in her eyes.

  Jonquil edged away, scowling and wiping her face. “Stop it! It’s rude to stare, you know!”

  The trio withdrew. Teal cringed. “Sorry, Jonquil. It’s just… I can’t remember the last time I saw someone cry.”

  Ruby’s hazel eyes were wide. “Yeah, what’s it like?”

  Jonquil’s anger evaporated. “What’s it like?” She looked confused. “You mean, to cry?”

  All three of them nodded keenly.

  Jonquil’s lips tried to form words. She put a hand against her forehead. “I…don’t know. It’s like—” She shook her head. “It hurts, sort of. But not properly. Kind of an ache. It’s like…letting something out.”

  The trio pondered this in silence. Cyan rubbed his chin. A smile tugged the edges of his mouth. “So it’s like…a painful number two?”

  “No!” Jonquil screwed up her face. “That’s gross.”

  Cyan stopped snickering when Ruby thumped his arm so hard he nearly fell from his seat. “Ignore Cyan, Jonquil. He’s an idiot and he suffers from delusions of humour.”

  Cyan rubbed his arm. “Hey! You laugh at me all the time.”