The Memory Thieves

by Darren Simpson

  Cyan frowned at the memory of that day. “Oh. Right.”

  Ruby turned away and started walking. “Come on. Got something to show you.”

  Ruby spoke in hushed tones while Cyan trailed her along gangways. “Just so you know: if you go down the ladders instead of up –” she pointed at a nearby shaft – “they’ll take you to the engine floor, where they have all the mechanisms for moving the rooms. Cogs and machines and stuff. It’s pretty awesome. There’re even stairs which I think go from there to the communal and staff floors. But I don’t go to the engine floor much. Once there was a technician hanging around with a clipboard. Getting caught sneaking around the framework probably wouldn’t go down well. God knows what Ms Ferryman would say.”

  “Or Dr Haven.” That word came again to Cyan’s mind: consequences.

  He unbuttoned his blazer, suddenly warm in the cool air. “Don’t you think it’s risky to be here?”

  “Probably.”

  Cyan patted his blazer pocket. “And what about your note? Where’d you even get a pen and paper?”

  “They’re Ms Ferryman’s. I had a meeting in her office. Sort of…borrowed them while her back was turned.”

  Cyan huffed. “Great. So we’ll get in trouble for being here and for using notes.”

  “Chill out, Teal.”

  “I’m not Teal.”

  “No, Teal’s more fun.”

  Cyan was about to respond but had nothing to come back with. He pushed his hands into his pockets. “It just seems risky, that’s all.”

  “It’s worth it. Take a look through that window.”

  She’d led Cyan to the far end of the space, where large round windows were embedded regularly along the concrete wall. Cyan put his palms on the nearest window’s deep, circular cavity and leaned forward to put his face to the glass.

  The sanctuary’s top was so high up that he could see sand dunes unfolding beneath him. They stretched out into the distance, with the moon perched above the curving horizon. Beneath the moon’s belly a white beam coursed across sand, just as it would a moonlit sea.

  Ruby spoke from behind. “You like it?”

  Cyan barely heard her. The moon quilted the dunes with spectral salt-sparkle. He saw tiny whale skeletons and ship shadows, twinkling like the stars above the sands. And a distant column of darkness – the Serenity…

  Ruby smacked her lips. “Wow. I’ve actually found something that shuts you up.”

  Cyan turned his head to look at her. “Man alive, Ruby. It’s…beautiful.”

  “I know. And I’m not keen on sharing it either. But I made an exception for you. Thought it might stop you being such a wet blanket.”

  She shoved Cyan aside and – after climbing into the cavity to rest against its curve – sat with her arms around her legs. Cyan mirrored her pose on the cavity’s other side and they stared in silence through the glass.

  Moments passed by, until Ruby kicked Cyan’s shin.

  “Ow!”

  “So what is it, misery guts?” Ruby’s legs jittered behind her folded arms. “You’re not seriously still moping over what happened at the Serenity, are you?”

  Cyan wished that was all that was troubling him. He fidgeted against the concrete, tempted to tell all. The bone code and drawer. What the doctor had done…

  But he bit his tongue. If what he knew carried any threat of consequences, could he really pass that risk on to Ruby?

  He lowered his eyes.

  Ruby sucked air in through her teeth. “Stop stressing about it, okay? You did the right thing for Jonquil. Letting her talk could have ruined her treatment. And she’s out and about again now. All’s well that ends well, right?”

  Cyan turned his face to the window. “But has it ended well? You saw her earlier. Don’t you think something was really…off about her?”

  “Like I said, we probably caught her after some treatment.”

  Cyan pursed his lips. “Maybe. But…” He fell silent.

  When he spoke again, his voice was so low Ruby had to lean in to hear. “Do you ever wonder…” He hesitated again.

  “Hm?”

  “Do you ever wonder about what we’re doing here? I mean…about the forgetting?”

  “Why would I?”

  Cyan met her gaze. “Some…stuff‘s got me thinking about it. Not just Jonquil. Other stuff too.”

  Ruby looked puzzled. “What stuff?”

  Cyan lifted his glasses, trying to rub the tiredness from his eyes.

  “I’m finding it harder and harder,” he finally said, “to ignore the fact I’m feeling…bothered.”

  Ruby cocked her head. “In what way?”

  “That’s part of the problem. I know some of the stuff that bothers me…” Again he resisted the urge to tell her what Dr Haven had done, and thought instead about the whale bones and cabin.

  “When I get certain…feelings,” he went on, remembering how his hands had trembled when he’d read the note in the drawer, “I can’t figure out why I’m feeling them. It’s like there’s a no-zone in my head. I find it really hard to focus on stuff like that. Do you know what I mean?” Cyan looked imploringly into Ruby’s face. “Does that make any sense at all?”

  Ruby still looked puzzled, but Cyan caught her expression faltering. She was trying to hide something.

  He leaned forward to look more closely at her face. “You do know what I mean.”

  Ruby pulled back. She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly through her nose. “Not really. I’m not worried or anything. I do have this…thing, though. But I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

  Cyan’s eyebrows rose. “Why not?”

  Ruby looked away. “In case it…” She stopped, shook her head and crossed her arms. “No, I can’t—”

  “In case,” interrupted Cyan, quoting what the doctor said so often about his fear of fire, “other people interfere and hinder your progress.”

  Ruby’s arms unfolded. Her eyes were large and on Cyan again. “How do you know that?”

  “Because I’ve got a thing too, and I’m told exactly the same. By Dr Haven, right?” He watched her closely. “So what’s the thing you’re told to keep to yourself?”

  Ruby’s lips were clenched.

  Cyan put his hand out, touched the toe of her plimsoll. “It’s all right. I’ll make it fair. Will you tell me yours if I tell you mine?”

  Again, Ruby’s expression weakened.

  “Okay,” said Cyan. “I suffer from pyrophobia.”

  “Pyro-what?”

  “A fear of fire.”

  “Oh,” breathed Ruby. Something softened in her eyes. She looked through the window, towards the distant pillar of darkness. “So that’s why you never light the fire. By the Serenity.”

  “Yep. And just like with you, Dr Haven tells me to keep it secret.”

  Ruby looked sad. Cyan touched her toe again. “Want to tell me yours?”

  Ruby stared at him and gnawed her lower lip. Again, she took a long, deep breath. She flicked some curls from her face and her gaze fell. “I… I get down sometimes.”

  “Down? Like sad?”

  “More than sad. Like really down. Sometimes I feel sort of…abandoned, I guess. Which I know sounds stupid.”

  “It doesn’t sound stupid at all.”

  Ruby smiled faintly, then carried on. “I get this wave of emptiness. A big, sad emptiness that makes me go to my room and lie on the bed. And when I get there, I feel pinned down. Like a bug or something. I can’t get up. Not for a long time. And what makes it worse is there’s not even any real abandonment. It makes no sense.”

  Cyan rocked forward and back again. “Just like my pyrophobia.”

  “Yeah. It’s like you said. I know what I feel, but I can’t figure out why. And then…” She trailed off, grimacing at Cyan before looking at her knees. “I’ve told you too much.”

  “It’s okay. Stop if you want. And thanks. I know it’s not easy.”

  Ruby nodded slowly to herself, then
looked up again. “We’d better shut up before we start…you know, interfering even more with each other’s treatment.”

  When Cyan smiled he meant it. “I actually feel better after all this interfering.”

  Ruby smiled back. “Yeah. I guess I do as well.” She shrugged. “But what do we know?”

  Cyan couldn’t answer. Frowning, he tipped his head back against the coolness of the curve. “Don’t you think it’s weird, though, that both of us have these things Dr Haven tells us to keep secret? Doesn’t it make you wonder whether other residents are hiding problems? Whether they’re told to pretend they’re fine too?”

  Ruby gave a quiet laugh. “What? Like Teal? Yeah, he’s always pretending he’s fine.”

  “But Teal only goes on about surface stuff – the little things. Maybe his worrying’s worse than we realize. Did you see the state of him when everything kicked off with Jonquil? He was properly, like, shaking. Maybe all his stressing comes from…from something deeper.”

  Cyan turned his face away, then realized he’d done so in shame, thinking of all the times he’d teased Teal. He could just make out his reflection in the glass, and he gazed at it glumly. “I mean, if the way Teal gets is even a tiny bit like the way I’ve been feeling…”

  He sighed and straightened, with his eyes once more on Ruby. “What I’m saying is, for all we know, loads of residents could be hiding problems. It’d be a weird coincidence if it’s just us two and we ended up talking about it tonight.”

  “Coincidences do happen, Cyan.”

  “I’m not so sure. Sometimes it makes me wonder. You know, about the trust we put in Dr Haven. Whether there’s something…going on. Something sort of…”

  He trailed off when he saw Ruby gaping at him, as if struck by a horrific realization. Her mouth began to open, and she cupped a hand around her chin while leaning close. Her voice dropped to a shaky whisper. “Oh my god. I’ll tell you what’s really weird…”

  Cyan stared back and tilted his ear to her lips. He could feel the muscles tightening around his neck and shoulders. “What?” he hissed. “What’s weird?”

  “You, you freak!” Ruby hooted and leaned back against the cavity, chuckling and snorting while Cyan pouted.

  “God, Cyan! This is even worse than I imagined. I thought you were just getting boring. Turns out you’re paranoid too! Talk about overthinking things. You really are worse than Teal!”

  Cyan was still pouting. But as he watched Ruby grin and roll her eyes, he couldn’t fight the smile that crept onto his lips.

  He shrugged and allowed his shoulders to loosen. Ruby was still chortling and Cyan wondered whether she might be right. Perhaps he had been overthinking things. Overreacting. Making mountains of molehills. There was no harm in hoping.

  Groaning tiredly, he kicked Ruby’s toe with his own. “Thanks, by the way. For showing me this.” He nodded at the window.

  Ruby kicked his toe in return and cocked an eyebrow. “Stop obsessing and try to relax, yeah? It’ll be good to have the old Cyan back one day – as annoying as he was.”

  Grinning, she turned her attention to the window. Cyan saw the silvery light on her face. He smiled too and joined her in gazing at the sandscape.

  “Just look at it,” sighed Ruby. “It’s like a frozen sea – the way the dunes make waves in the moonlight.”

  “Dune-light,” said Cyan, almost to himself.

  Ruby beamed. “Yeah. Dune-light. That’s perfect.”

  The next evening, after being called to the canteen by his locket, Cyan joined Ruby and Teal in the queue for food. They’d landed the same dinner shift.

  The canteen that day was lit by paper lanterns, which hung in sprawling clusters from the ceiling. Some mahogany booths had been set up along the walls; the trio jumped into one before it could be seized by anyone else.

  Cyan and Teal shared a long seat, with their mustard-yellow uniforms bright against the booth’s green padding. Ruby sat on the opposite side and joined the boys in downing a dose of pills.

  Cyan was chewing chicken when someone caught his eye. “Jonquil!” he called. “You want to sit with us?” He leaned out and waved, but Jonquil passed the booth and kept walking.

  Cyan sensed Ruby watching him. He glanced across to catch her looking concerned, though she quickly wrinkled her nose. “You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full,” she said. “It’s gross.”

  Cyan pulled a face. “You gabble with your mouth full all the time. It’s like talking to a food blender.”

  Ruby hooted. “Food in my mouth makes conversation with you bearable. At least that way there’s something interesting going on.”

  Cyan scoffed. “That’s actually not a bad idea.” He scooped a huge lump of food into his mouth and could barely speak through his risotto. “You’re right! You’re…almost bearable…like this.”

  Ruby had already refilled her mouth. “Good! I’m glad we’ve – “she almost gagged while trying to speak – “found a…way to be…bearable.”

  They were both already chortling, and laughed all the harder when food fell from their mouths back onto their plates.

  Teal didn’t look impressed. He picked up his tray and edged away. “You two are disgusting. You’re getting germs everywhere.”

  Ruby grinned. “A few germs are good for you. In fact…” She plucked a clump of rice from her mouth, and was offering it to Teal when a strangled cry made all three of them turn their heads.

  Cyan’s heart missed a beat. He knew that cry from the Serenity. It was Jonquil.

  Other residents were swivelling on their seats. There was some sort of commotion at the food counter. Throwing his cutlery down, Cyan slid from the booth and jumped onto a chair. He saw Jonquil swinging a metal tray at some residents, who were staggering backwards with their hands shielding their faces.

  Jonquil howled like an injured animal. Mangled words broke up her cries, but they were hard to hear over the crowd’s startled chatter. Through the pounding of blood in his ears, Cyan heard her shout something about a sister, about forgetting – about losing too much.

  With her eyes rolling and spit on her chin, Jonquil clutched a handful of forks and hurled them at a nearby table. She clamped her lips together, but struggled to keep her mouth shut, as if in battle with her own voice.

  Cyan was already squeezing past stunned residents. As he drew nearer, he found himself frozen by the terror in Jonquil’s eyes. She hugged the tray against her chest. A violent shaking took command of her limbs.

  Three orderlies in starched white uniforms pushed through the crowd. They surrounded Jonquil, only to fall back when she swiped with her tray and sent one of them toppling.

  Jonquil trembled, stuttered and swayed. The noise from the crowd grew louder. Cyan’s head swept desperately left and right, and he saw Dr Haven speaking calmly into his staff locket. A moment later there was movement by the canteen entrance. Residents were making way for Mr Banter, who strode through the crowd in his usual leisurely way.

  Jonquil shrank from the blond orderly’s steady, looming approach, but the food counter left her with nowhere to go. Mr Banter took her arm in his hand and she lashed out with her tray. There was a resounding clang as it crashed against his head.

  The orderly’s thick glasses were cracked and bent, though other than that, nothing in his cool, faintly amused expression changed. With his free hand, he pinched the tray’s edge between finger and thumb, plucked it away and tossed it aside.

  Jonquil was shaking all over. She could barely keep her eyes on the cartridge Mr Banter pulled from his pocket. When a long needle sprang from its top, a confused gasp rippled through the crowd. Cyan felt a sickly rush of heat and pushed again towards Jonquil.

  He whimpered, almost in pain, when Mr Banter jammed the needle into Jonquil’s neck. Her body seemed to cramp and contract, before becoming limp and crumpling in the orderly’s arms.

  Cyan tried to follow while Mr Banter dragged Jonquil to the exit, but his way was blocked by shocked r
esidents. Orderlies were filtering through the crowd and calmly offering pills.

  Some residents – mostly younger ones – obediently swallowed their pills and sank to the floor. Others were resisting, waving their arms, raising their voices. Cyan saw them silenced by needles, before they stiffened and collapsed like stringless puppets.

  He glanced back towards his booth, saw Teal and Ruby slumped with their faces in their food. Looking ahead again, he spotted the top of Mr Banter’s head and leaped over a sprawled resident before rebounding from an orderly’s chest.

  “Take this, Cyan.” The orderly held out an oval blue pill. His mouth was twisted into a smile, but the eyes beneath his fringe were dark and determined.

  “Jonquil…” pleaded Cyan. He threw a finger towards her. “What happened? Is she… Will she be okay?”

  “Just take this, Cyan. Then everything will be fine.”

  Cyan pushed himself on tiptoes to peer over the orderly’s shoulder. “I can’t. It’s Jonquil. I just want to… I need to know…”

  The orderly grumbled through gritted teeth. There was a cold sting in Cyan’s neck, and his muscles tightened around his bones, as if snaring him in a net.

  And then: numbness and nothing.

  Beep.

  Beep.

  Beep.

  Beep.

  On it went. A muted chorus of beeps and bleeps.

  Cyan awoke to whiteness – to a sparse white ceiling, white halogen strip lights, the cruel glare of white-tiled walls.

  He moved his hand to his stomach, trying to ease the nausea there, and in doing so realized his limbs were sore, and that he was wearing a grey hospital gown.

  With a groan, he sat up slowly and put a hand to his aching head. The chill air made him cross his arms and hug himself. He noticed his tortoiseshell glasses by his pillow, put them on and looked around to see a wall-mounted sink, a table and a handful of trolleys, all stainless steel and bright in sterile light. A large metal cabinet sat some way to his left, and on his right…