by Lisa Bunker
ZeroMoment
Hi, this is Beatrix Yz, reporting for Felix about the Procedure that is about to happen, and we are in a little room high up in the wall of the big square chamber where the Apparatus is, and in a minute they’re going to bring Felix out and put him in it. Oh, you better come out of this all right, little brother.
Now a technician person is here and … hold on, I’ll be right back.
OK, I’m back. The technician person was just explaining that we need to wear these big headphones, but not so we can hear. It’s to protect our hearing, because the amount of electricity that is going to go through the Apparatus at the ZeroMoment is like a hundred bolts of lightning and there is going to be the thunder of a hundred bolts of lightning. Also, when the ZeroMoment happens, we’re supposed to crouch down behind these metal shields on the other side of the room from the window in case it breaks. The window is a foot thick, and it’s weird to look through because even though it’s clear, it has this subtle green-blue color, so everything on the other side looks like it’s underwater.
Oh, I’m scared, but I have to keep recording because I promised Felix I would. And now what? Grandy is singing?
Feels
Feels with wheels
Mom’s got the middle part. That leaves the high line for me.
Over you it steals
This feeling of feels
Oh, those feels
Sneak into your heart
Tear it all apart
Leave you gasping and sore
But wanting more
More feels
Feels … with … wheels
There you go, Felix. A final threeness for luck.
And, here he is. The door is opening, and here comes a little group. Dr. Yoon is there, and Dr. Gordon, and two other people, nurses, I guess, or technicians, and Felix in a wheelchair, wearing a hospital robe. Now he’s getting up, and he looks like he must be drugged, because he almost fell down, and they’re holding him up.
Now they’re taking the robe off him, and oh, he looks like a pathetic little vulnerable Gumby thing, no hair, not even eyebrows … Little brother, don’t die … OK, I have to stay strong and keep talking …
So now he’s sort of trying to help, but mostly they’re doing it, they’re slathering the goo all over him, and now he’s all shiny and slippery-looking, and they’re helping him up the steps. He’s going really slowly… . Oh, I have to turn off the recorder again.
OK, that took about ten minutes, but they finally got him all down inside, just his face still peeking out, like a baby bird inside an egg, and now they’ve closed the egg again. There’s a hatch that closes and latches, and he’s all down inside there now, breathing through a tube.
Just before they closed the hatch, they reached in and gave him another shot, so he’s asleep now, and in the next minute or two the machine is going to rev up… . Actually, we can already hear the hum of it getting louder… . I guess it has to build up for a long time for the big zap. And now they’re going to stop his heart and … and … oh, this is terrible … they’re going to stop his heart, and then the zap will happen, and then the machine will start his heart again, and then they’ll run in in case it doesn’t, and then … then it will be done. One way or another, it will be done.
OK, it’s time. Here we go. The humming is getting louder now, it’s building up, the electricity is building up, and there’s kind of a glowy haze around the Apparatus, and it’s getting brighter and it’s getting louder in here… . I have to put my headphones on now, and we’re getting down behind the metal barrier. I can’t see the Apparatus anymore, but the hum is getting louder… . It’s getting really loud in here and really bright… . [twenty seconds of static, sound of explosion]
OK, I guess it’s done. There was a huge flash and a clap of thunder that hurt my ears even with the headphones on, and the whole room shook. The hum is getting quieter again, and we’re up and looking through the window and the people are running in, they’re running up the stairs, they’re opening … I saw Felix’s face for just a second, it looked all white and still … oh, and, um, they’re pulling him out, they’re checking … and thumbs up, thumbs up! He’s alive, he’s alive! I gotta go.
Zyx?
Zyx? Are you there?
Mother Hubbard, I thought I would be done crying. I guess not. Excuse me, I’ll be back in a minute.
And, I’m back. And, it worked, obviously. I woke up about an hour ago, but this is the first chance I’ve had to write, what with feels and tests and washing the goop off.
Before I tell about waking up, there’s something else I want to capture right away, because I can feel it already fading, the way dreams fade. It wasn’t a dream, though, at least not like any dream I’ve had before. More like the field trip to the fourth dimension that Zyx gave me, but not quite like that, either. Halfway in between, I guess. And it’s strange that it happened, because I was drugged and then dead and then still drugged, but it did.
What happened was, I found myself floating in a golden place, and I felt no fear, only warmth and peace. It didn’t occur to me to try to figure out if I had a body or not. There was a kind of feeling of music that was actually a color that tasted the way lavender smells, and that makes no sense, but that’s what it was like.
Zyx was there. I could feel ven stronger and more clearly than ever before, except I was the one inside and vo was the one who was all around. Then the gold began to swirl, and I began to see faces around me, then bodies. They stood or floated a little way away, looking at me with calm eyes. The one in front was a tall skinny boy with dark hair who I knew as soon as I saw him must be my brother, Ben, and behind him was my dad, looking older than the pictures I’ve seen, and then, spreading out behind them, more faces and bodies going back into the hazy distance. They did not smile. They looked at me as though through glass. It felt sad, but sweet too.
Then the swirling picked up speed and black started to mix in with the gold. The faces and bodies went away, not snuffed out or anything scary like that, just swept away in the swirling. And the black, it wasn’t scary either. It was a soft silk black that in a weird way felt as comforting as the gold, like the necessary other half of it. The swirling got faster and faster and the gold spun down to a thread, an endless golden thread that twisted around itself, spirals within spirals within spirals, and even though the thread had no thickness, there was so much of it twisted and swirled every which way that it still filled all the space I was in. And I felt that one part of the thread was twisted around in the shape of me, and that another part off in the dark somewhere, an infinity of nested spirals away, but still connected, was twisted around in the shape of Zyx.
Then I did feel like I had a body, including closed eyes I could open, so I opened them.
Everyone was there, Mom and Bea and Grandy and Dr. Yoon and Dr. Gordon. Mom squeezed me so tight I could hardly breathe, and Grandy said a thing about the phoelix rising from the ashes (vo specifically mentioned to spell it that way … I roll my eyes), and Bea actually gave me a kiss. I don’t know if she’s ever done that before, since I was a baby, at least, but it was nice.
And I keep stretching, because I finally can. I can stretch my arms over my head all the way from the big shoulder joints to the fingertips at the same time that I stretch my legs all the way down to my toes, and it crackles all down my spine and it feels totally amazing. Wait a second, I’m going to do it again.
Oh, Nelson, that feels so GOOD. I didn’t know how hard it was to move, before. And look, my hands aren’t jerking at all. And when I talk, the words come flowing out as fast as I think them. I can talk. I can move. I’m free.
Zyx, I hope you’re all right, back there in your fourth dimension. I hope you’re dancing free. I’m going to miss you. And thanks, again. Thanks for holding me together in the last little bit, and for everything else. Thanks, and sorry, and bye.
So now what?
Um, well, now I can go get my award for the writing contest. T
wo hundred dollars, not bad. And when I read part of my essay aloud at the ceremony like Ms. C said, I’ll actually be able to read it. And maybe I can use the prize money to buy a used saxophone. And now I can really get to work on drawing Jarq, and writing it too. And … wait, hold on. Chat window. It’s Hector. Hey, he didn’t wait, he messaged first. Cool. I’ll be right back.
29 Days Ago
How can a month have gone by already?
I had an idea that I might keep writing entries here, because even in the middle of all the feels and drama and stuff, I was having more and more fun putting what was happening into words, but I’ve just been so busy.
Yeah, a LOT has been going on. Where to even start? Well, Hector and I are making a comic together now. Turns out he draws way better than I do, so I’m doing the story and he’s doing the art. So far our comic is called Squodylax, which is this weird random word Hector came up with, and honestly I don’t like it but I haven’t figured out yet how to say that. Even with the not-so-good name, though, it is wicked fun working with him. We pass rough draft pages back and forth between classes. Like, I do an outline-y thing in first period and hand it to him at the corner by the door to the cafeteria where we always pass, and by third period he’s got a pencil sketch that he’s waiting at the same corner to hand back to me, with voice balloons ready to be filled in, and then, well, I won’t go into all the details, but it’s cool. And I’m actually glad to give Jarq a rest. Not done with it, just letting it sit for a bit.
Other than the comic, I’m not sure exactly what’s going on with Hector. The first week or two after I got back to school, until last week actually, there was so much fuss about me seeming so different to everyone and still having no eyebrows and stuff that I didn’t get to talk to him hardly at all, and now if I try to talk to him about anything but Squodylax it gets awkward, because without the extra push of maybe being about to die it feels complicated. To tell the truth, I have no idea what I’m doing. So, we talk about Squodylax a lot.
Maybe we’re just comic-drawing friends now?
Maybe. But then there’s also the part where the other day Mom suggested that when we go to the lake this summer we could ask Hector if he wants to come with us, and my brain just kind of froze up, because, Hector at the lake. Gooooonnnnnggggg! Hector at the lake. I haven’t asked him. I got close once, but at the last second my tongue got gluey. I still have a few weeks before summer. I wonder if I will. I really don’t know if I’m going to be able to make myself do it. Gooooonnnnnggggg!
Oh, and the other thing at school that’s truly freaky, aside from the general freakiness of everyone wanting to gush at me all the time, is Tim. He keeps talking to me, and I think maybe, I mean, I can’t believe it, but I think he’s trying to make friends? Which means I’m having to work just as hard as I was before to avoid him. Gah.
What else, since I seem to be summing up? Well, turns out Mom and Ursula in the sunroom after dinner is just as squirmworthy as Mom and Rick was—exactly the same—so nothing has changed there. And Grandy’s the same as ever, still smiling that cat smile of veirs, and Ursula tried to teach me chess, but I decided without Zyx it was too hard, and sax is hard too, but I can’t seem to stop trying again, and, um, let’s see… . the awards ceremony went fine … and Bea had her big spring recital and even without Zyx I felt the music move me. It was really different hearing her play the big black piano up on the stage, even though I’ve been listening to her practice all the pieces for months. Including the sinfonias. Three of them, actually. How about that? A threeness of threenesses. The nineness of things! Or not. There’s no end in that direction. Probably best to leave that alone.
And then, no more Zyx. I still get sad about that, but then the golden thread vision-dream comes back into my mind and I feel a little better, because I can sense vo and I are still connected. No way to say hey, but still connected.
So, as I was saying, I thought I’d keep writing here, but I’m not sure I will after all. Maybe I’m too busy living to write about living. Every day, I mean, here in this journal. I’m writing Squodylax, and I’ll get back to writing Jarq, and beyond that I feel like I could choose any little section of that infinite golden spiral to focus in on and it would turn out to be another story that wants to be told. There’s no end of writing to be done. Maybe just not this one particular way anymore.
Zyx, whadayathink? Any reason I shouldn’t just live as hard as I can, every second, and not worry about catching it all? Because who needs to catch it when you’re right there in the middle of it, doing it, being it, living it? Any reason at all?
Yep, I agree. That’s what I think too. Let’s go.
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