The watchtower was essentially just that, manned at all times. It had comm links to the ground, and the lift shaft was adjoined by what Tansy called a dumbwaiter and Essa called a fucking food shaft. Another adjoining shaft was the oxygen ventilation that ran all the way down to level six, the level below the storeroom. That was strictly off limits except for Linwood. You could hear the generators from level five if you listened close enough. Could feel the vibrating too if you stood still enough.
Calix walked around the central shaft, not quite enjoying the unbroken view of the landscape outside, or the vertigo that tried to unlevel inside his head. “Well, it’s consistent,” he said, smiling, thinking back to his spelling lesson with Jinny.
When he looked out, he didn’t see sand. Sand was solid. This was an ocean. It ate you whole. Swallowed you – one misstep and you could drown. Dunes like tsunamis undulated under whispering gales, and where it was flat, in the hollows, the sand seemed to snake like streams in a gorge – it was a gusty day and the sand was happy to pull its tricks, make doubters of anyone looking. It was reddest in what passed as sunshine, though still a dark-red, and as the dunes crested they fell into an abyss of black-red shadows. Calix was afraid of that descending dark side of the dunes and vowed to forever travel in the light.
He could feel that thought settle, and it ate his insides, hollowed his gut. Linwood always got what he wanted.
At the southern station Calix tried to understand the readings on the screens but they meant nothing to him. He knew it was something about the weather – one of these stations at least, but which one he didn’t know. What the others did, he didn’t know. What was out there, he didn’t know, or want to know or want to find out. The outer dome, the one that breathed, stretched out and away from the watchtower, descending down to the ground and out of sight. For as long as he could stand the view and the height, he always watched for the breathing movement of the dome when he was up here. As always, it was solid. That thing ain’t moving, he thought. “Stupid, dumb, wanderer.”
Annora
She waved at Ziyad, and noticed he wasn’t wearing his glasses as he went down in the lift, but he didn’t wave back. All she wanted was for everyone to get on “like a house on fire,” someone from the archive films had once said. Zi used to play with her and Calix and the other kids but he’d begun to pull a bit of a face lately whenever she was friendly.
She looked back at the screen.
The older kids treated her as if she was invisible; Kirillion and Linwood were the only adults who paid any real attention to her. And Jinny, she supposed, but she was barely an adult herself, and it was her job to care since she was their teacher now that Ardelia was old enough and “wise enough to help on the scouting crews.” That was Linwood’s way, putting you to use, and if you weren’t useful then it was out into the sands for you.
She watched the screen without really watching. She knew there were fun things to watch but Kirillion only allowed educational films from the archives most of the time, unless she was ill (or pretending to be ill) or she and all the other kids had been particularly well behaved. Something called a lion chased something called a gazelle and then ate it. The sand in the film was paler than outside, and flatter, and Annora wondered why if so many scouting parties had been sent out, had no-one found anything other than what already lay outside the dome? Why hadn’t a single lion or gazelle been brought back? She watched as teeth tore flesh from bone. Maybe because they got eaten, she thought.
Days like this she bored easily; no school, no chores, no excitement. There hadn’t been a single visitor for ages. She leaned back on the tattered couch with the plastic armrests poking through the fabric and yawned. The neon striplighting above was broken in sections, in need of repair, and the panels hiding the ventilation system were falling down in some places, or missing altogether. Rafe had better things to do.
The thrum and clank of the lift started up again – she hadn’t noticed its end – and she lay there staring at the vacant space, waiting for it to come into view.
If Rafe won’t fix the little things, maybe she could. Maybe he could become her teacher instead and teach her things that made her useful here, so she didn’t have to go out there. Rafe was a good guy. He drank a lot but that made him even funnier.
The top of the lift appeared, and then Calix’s head through the bars, going up to see Linwood probably as he had chores to do today. She hoped he would finish them soon so they could go and play. She waved and he waved back, feet vanishing up the shaft.
“Don’t be long,” she shouted up, even though he probably couldn’t hear her. She jumped up and ran to the cage and looked up, glints of light off the bottom of the lift flashing down. He hadn’t stopped so he was definitely going all the way up.
She turned back, was about to sit down, and changed her mind. She had business to attend to. Three corridors led away from the communal area in four directions; north, east, south and west, making twelve in total. She took an east corridor to her room, the auto-lighting illuminating the ceiling on the way. She and Calix had a game; run as fast as possible around the corridors and beat the lights, a game they had always lost, but this past year they had become quick and often found themselves racing along in darkness until bumping into an adult who would tell them to save their energy and stop running around like “crazed lowcases.” That was one of Linwood’s. No-one really knew what it meant and when asked, Linwood said it was “something from his past.”
It wasn’t that often, but when he was in one of his moods he would sometimes call out everyone in Sanctum as “Nothing but ignorant lowcases who don’t know shit from shit.”
Well I wanna know some shit, thought Annora. Like how this toilet worked. She sat on the toilet in her en-suite bathroom and stared at the reflection in the mirror. The neon above it was pink – thank you Rafe – yet still darkened her blonde hair as it was the only source of light. Brown eyes became almost green in the glow, and her face blushed. There was a soft ‘plop’ from below as her waste fell into the recycling conduit. She used a dry rag and then rinsed it in the sink, placing it back on the rack to dry.
After drying her hands she lay on the bed in her bedroom. Not a lot to look at; a built-in cupboard for her clothes in which lay a pile of outgrown shoes that were mostly worn through to the sole anyway. She’d been meaning to give them back to Easton, along with an armful of clothes that she had also outgrew, but she’d been putting it off because she liked the look of a full cupboard. If she emptied it, there wouldn’t be much left. Besides, it wasn’t as though the need was great.
She sighed.
Some stuffed bears she’d found in storage a while back sat at the head of her bed, and she reached up and held her favourite close: Binny, all brown bear and eyeless. Two black threads had been poked through in and out, in and out, where the eyes had been. She often woke in the morning to find little tufts of hair on her pillow – her Binny was going bald.
She heard the clanking of the lift again and stood, heading for the doorway. She leaned against the side and cuddled Binny and watched, ready to wave to Calix. But it was Linwood looking filthy – he really needed to wash his clothes. She didn’t bother waving, instead retreating and throwing Binny on the bed.
“Time to go,” she said, pulling open the cupboard door. “I could always get takers on some new clothes anyway, even if they don’t fit yet.” She grabbed the bag she used to put her dirty clothes in, and began filling it with the things she had outgrown.
Bowie walked past her room, rubbing the palms of his hands against his eyes. “Morning, Annora,” he said. He was dressed in a long, thin gown that had once been black but now was grey.
“It’s afternoon sleepy face.”
He disappeared, heading for the shower block. Bowie had night watch, saying he preferred the darkness so he could imagine there was actually something out there instead of the vast nothingness. He rarely went aboveground before the clouds had turned black.
&nb
sp; “See ya later, Binny!” Annora shouted. The bag was heavy and she dragged it along behind her to the lift doors. She signalled and then waited for one of the lifts to pick her up. Where was Cal now? she thought, looking up as the cage descended. But Calix wasn’t inside. Linwood must’ve given him more chores.
The lift shifted slightly under the weight of Annora and the bag, and then she pulled the bars across and sent it upwards.
One day it will break, and we’ll all be stuck down here.
“Not once has it ever broken down,” boasted Rafe on many occasions. He would pat the side-panel. “I take care of you, don’t I?”
“There’s always the emergency shaft,” said Kirillion.
“Too much like hard work,” Rafe had responded.
It shunted to a stop in the courtyard and she got out. Her eyes adjusted quickly and she made her way over to the materials workshop, bare feet cool against the hardtop. She looked up towards the 400 metre-high roof of the dome to see if anyone was coming down, but there was no-one.
Ahead, the workshop stood against the 100 metre-high back wall of the dome (before it began to curve upwards), standing at four stories, clad in white daubing that had somehow remained white. It was attached to the inner dome for easy rear access from the Agridome. Cleaned regularly, and vibrant with flowers, Annora saw it as a beacon of the past. Roses and camellias flourished across the porch, fed regularly with fertiliser, their various roots (who could tell where they first began) sitting in a hydroponic moat that bordered the building on three sides. She stepped up to the porch, wading into the scent that greeted her, and then pushed the heavy double-doors open to go inside.
Rose petals were used to make rose water, and this in turn was used to scent the soap that Easton and her team used to wash all the clothes. On some days, the whole of Sanctum was thick with the scent of rose water and it took a level three ventilation cleansing to completely diffuse it. Annora loved it when they ran one. Loved the breeze against her face and the freshly regenned air in her lungs. “Leave some for us,” Calix would say, closing his hand over her mouth until her licking it grossed him out enough for him to release.
“Hi Annora,” said Easton. She was albino, hair long and skewered on top of her head with a swordplay of skewers. She sat behind a reception area but was surrounded by sewing machines, and looms worked busily away at the far end of the room with Alden watching over them. “What can I do you for today?”
Annora dropped the heavy bag. “I got some old clothes and shoes that don’t fit no more.”
“You playing me? I gave you a new pair of shoes just a month ago, and you walking around all barefoot.”
“No I still got those shoes. They’re a bit big but okay if I need them. This is all old stuff.”
“Let me see.” She stood up and bent over the bag. She lifted out a shirt that Annora hadn’t worn since she was five. “Annie, how long you been holding on to this one?”
“I’d dress up my dolls sometimes.”
“Oh. Well I guess your clothes have outgrown your dolls now, eh? What you after for all this?”
“Nothing. Just returning.”
“Huh,” she shrugged. Annora liked how Easton’s hair could change colour in different lights. Like now, the orange glow through the window lit a bonfire on her head. “Hmm, maybe we got something, nevertheless. Follow me.”
“Okay!” Annora smiled and jumped with excitement. “Have you got anything pink?”
“You and pink,” Easton muttered.
“I like it!”
“So you’ve said! Only because of those damn archive films you watch.”
Annora stuck her tongue out but Easton was too busy pushing her way around a pile of bagged laundry to notice. “My own fault for letting them dump it where they want,” she muttered.
Before Easton heaved open the insulated double doors that lead to the inner warehouse, Annora took a deep breath and closed off her throat. She preferred to let the smell of the hemp invade slowly so she could get used to it. The doors opened and Annora followed inside; out of the sweetness of the roses and into the sweat of the raw hemp – like a fart wrapped up as a birthday present. The rose perfume was created on site and vented to the outer offices, acting as a protective layer, along with the insulated doors, to shield Sanctum from stinking. “We tried pumping the perfume into the warehouse, but it didn’t work,” Easton once said. “It was enough to make you sick, like a wanderer dabbing a bit of perfume round the chops but his clothes still smelling of six months of B. O.”
The autolights flickered on as they headed down the corridor, and to the right, a glass Perspex wall revealed the factory where the dried hemp was made useful. Kirillion usually oversaw the production needs of Sanctum, requesting an increase in paper production one week, some rope the next, and animal bedding the week after that. Whenever there was no particular urgency, Easton ordered the material to be used for making clothing, and depending on how finely they worked it, you could get a soft refinement that almost didn’t scratch your skin. “Praise the foresight of our forebears they included cotton,” Kirillion would say as he showed new visitors, as infrequent as they were, around. Couple this with pigskin and Easton and her team were able to create whatever Sanctum needed.
“Now we’ve been working through the cotton like there’s no tomorrow so I’ve not been able to make as much underwear as I’d like, but seeing as you’ve brought in some recycling, and some of it looks recyclable, I’ll let you have a couple panties and vests.” She turned left into the storeroom where shelved drawers lined the wall. She opened one drawer and pulled out some underwear. “Catch.”
“Thank you,” said Annora catching them mid-air.
“What else... what else.”
“Shoes?”
“Oh so you do want shoes.”
“Well, only if there are some that’ll fit me better.” The stale smell was slowly becoming more bearable, shallow breaths lengthening out.
Easton pulled open another drawer. “Hmm, was saving these in case we ever get any more orphans, or kids plain in need, but we can make some more. Small feet after all, not like we gotta wrap skin around Rafe’s gunboats.” She laughed quietly and looked at Annora’s deadpan face.
Suddenly realising a joke was made, Annora laughed.
“Alright, missy.”
“That was funny.”
“You may be cute but you won’t stay that way.”
“You’re cute too.”
Now Easton played deadpan. “You ain’t getting nothing else from me, better save it for someone who’ll listen, while you still can.”
“I got a new pair of shoes, didn’t I?” She beamed.
Easton held out her hand. “Come on, let’s shoot, I got work to do.”
Annora took the hand and let herself be lead back to the entrance. In the workshop they beavered away – one of Alden’s sayings – and she was glad for a moment that she wasn’t destined to man the sewing machines or stretch hide over the frames, sitting or standing all day in this stink.
Everyone has to earn their keep. It was basically Sanctum’s motto. “Any vacancies?” a wanderer would ask, hoping someone had died so they could take their place.
Easton pulled the double door in and the freshest air possible in the world rushed at Annora’s face, and she breathed it in as though she had been drowning. “Never did get used to that eh?” said Easton with a smile. “Work here long enough you don’t even smell it anymore, eh Alden?”
Alden sniffed.
“Take that as you want, missy. Now shoot.”
“Thanks Easton!” said Annora, bounding through the exit. Outside, she sat on the stoop and tried her new shoes on.
“Well ain’t you a picture of elite,” said Kirillion, walking past. “Fancy shoes, framed by all those lovely roses. Ought to get a picture!”
“What’s elite?”
“Someone high and mighty too big for their boots!”
Annora lifted her foot. “I ain’
t too big for these!” she shouted after him.
“Good to hear!” he shouted back as he entered the lift. He drew the bars and waved, descending.
She pulled the second shoe on and stood. She paced the porch, stepping purposefully one foot in front of the other and holding her hands out as though balancing. The tips of her fingers stroked the leaves and an occasional rose flower. Clematis danced between the thorny branches, snaking to periodic flowerheads.
“They need dead-heading,” said Alden. Annora hadn’t noticed him leave the workshop. He put thumb and forefinger behind a cotton-head looking bud and squeezed. It fell down and floated in the hydroponic moat. “New shoes?”
“Yeah,” said Annora looking over her shoulder.
“Lucky. Last pair I had was two years ago.” He leaned against the siding and sighed. Folding his arms, his bare forearms were veined, and his hands were scratched up from one too many slipped needles. “What else you got?”
“Vest and pants,” she said, returning to her spot on the stoop. She undid the double lace on her shoe and began rethreading for symmetry. “You seen Calix?”
“Seen nothing but a loom for the past two hours.”
“He’s around somewhere but don’t know where.” She began to sing as she threaded. “Needles and pins, needles and pins, when a man marries his trouble begins...”
“What’s that?”
“A song. Where is everyone today?”
“There was a level one swell, banked up outside. Linwood sent a bunch of people out to clear it.”
“Hmm, Calix is too small for that. Besides, he would’ve come told me first.”
“Well, this was a while ago. Glad I wasn’t asked to go – banks always take longer than you think to clear them.” He took a breath and stretched his neck. It clicked audibly.
There was a sudden crackling sound like paper being scrunched up, and then Kirillion’s voice boomed from the loudspeaker in the centre of the courtyard. Seconds later, it was echoed throughout the rest of the speakers within the compound, one of which was in the eaves of the workshop porch. Annora and Alden both covered their ears.
Neon Sands Page 3
