“Hello, Mikita,” said Florina, continuing to walk beside her. “You’ve been busy since we last saw you.”
“Yes, I suppose I have, those essays take a bit of time, that’s for sure.”
Gildan smiled. “Well, you didn’t want to fail your course, did you?”
“Nope. When I start something I like to finish it.”
“Mikita,” began Florina. “You know why we are here.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then, will you come with us? Please?”
Mikita stopped and looked at them both. “Can I think about this? I mean, I know what you say is true. I know that, now. I saw it. And I know I need help. But I need to find Polo, first. I haven’t seen her since I was held prisoner at TAPCON. I need to know that she is safe. Despite what she’s done.” She started walking again.
“We understand, Mikita,” said Gildan, catching up to her. “But perhaps we can help you?”
“No. There is one last place I need to check.”
“OK, Mikita,” said Florina, as both she and Gildan stopped walking. “Just call out when you need us. Good luck!”
Mikita continued on her way toward the station, and the shuttle to Lojikaal Parc.
As the carriage pulled away from the platform Mikita caught a glimpse of the TAPCON ground zero site. Debris and rubble from the TAPCON buildings was being cleared up by IFS workers and Tapian citizen volunteers. There would be bodies of TAPCON workers and staff in amongst all that stone and wire.
She thought again of Hanoi and felt that sick gnawing feeling in her soul, like a virus, chronic and recurring. Despite all the attempts at absolution, Mikita still felt a profound burden of guilt for what she’d done. She knew that this feeling would never leave her; it would never go away. Not ever.
Getting off at Lojikaal Parc, Mikita left the station and walked the few blocks to where her Aunt Fizz was currently living. It was a smallish building made up of self-contained flats in which the patients lived and had care, depending on their needs.
She pressed Fizz’s buzzer and waited.
“Who’s there?’ came a fragile voice.
“It’s me, Aunt Fizz - Mikita.”
“What do you want, dear?”
“Nothing, Auntie. I’ve just come for a visit. To see how you are, that’s all.”
She heard Fizz mumble something, then the internal buzzer signalled that the door could be opened.
Mikita let herself in and walked down the hallway to Fizz’s flat. She knocked on the door.
It opened slowly, just a crack. Then a bit more as Fizz’s head poked around the side of it.
Aunt Fizz was a small woman. She’d always dressed in colourful clothes. Clothes that had been fashionable many years ago, but now were only colourful. She had black hair flecked with grey streaks and sharp eyes like Polo’s, the difference being, her gaze was now unsure. She wasn’t well and she distrusted people, even relatives. All except Polo. She loved Polo. At least, during those moments when she knew who Polo was.
“Hello, Auntie,” said Mikita. “Can I come in?”
“Yes, dear, of course you can.” She opened the door further and Mikita entered the flat. “I’ve seen you on The Zip, you know,” said Fizz.
“Oh, yes. All that. Just a big mistake, Auntie. Don’t worry about it. We won’t have The Zip anymore, either. At least, it won’t be the same as it was.”
“But I liked it the way it was. I hope they don’t change it too much. That Phinn man was so nice looking. What a lovely smile he had. And his hair… Lovely. Cup of tea, dear?”
“Thank you, Aunt Fizz. Yes, please.”
Mikita looked around the front room of Fizz’s flat. There were photos all over it. On just about every spare bit of surface there was a picture frame containing a cherished moment of time. Many of them of Mikita’s Uncle Yaso and Fizz: on their wedding day, on a holiday in Nufanot. There were lots of Polo, too. And some of Fizz’s old friends - happier times.
Mikita could hear the kettle boiling and Fizz rustling about in the kitchenette. She went to the window and looked out at the view - not much to speak of, a patch of grass, a few trees.
“Here you are dear,” said Fizz, handing Mikita a cup.
It was empty.
“Oh, um, thank-you, Auntie Fizz,” said Mikita, pretending to sip from it. “Mmmm. Delicious tea.”
“So, have you heard from that father of yours lately?”
This stopped Mikita dead. For a second she thought that she knew about Jameson! How could she possibly know about… Then she realised that Fizz must be talking about her ‘other’ father...
“Your parents haven’t phoned me for ages, the so and sos. I’ll give them a piece of my mind the next time I see them, I’m telling you.”
It’s going to be a very small piece, Auntie, Mikita thought, based on your current condition. “Aunt Fizz, have you seen Polo? I’m wondering if she’s come to visit you recently?”
“No, she’s not here,” said Fizz, mechanically.
“Not seen her, at all? Since when?”
“No, she’s not here, Mikita,” said Fizz, again, looking sideways, nervously.
“Not called you, or anything?”
“No, dear. She’s not called me, or any -”
“I’m here,” said a voice.
Mikita knew it was Polo’s.
Slowly, from the kitchen her cousin appeared. She was dressed as a boy - hair combed in a side-parting, black blazer jacket and trousers, a tie.
Mikita tried to not look shocked, and she almost succeeded. Then she remembered Polo’s questions the other day, and her replies: “You’d make a lovely little boy, definitely...”
“I am here, Mikita.” Polo said, her voice fragile and tired. She looked like she'd been crying.
Mikita smiled, weakly. “Polo I’m so glad you’re -”
“I’m so sorry, Miki. For everything. I was wrong… I didn’t know what I was doing… Look, I brought you this.”
Polo had Mikita’s Serene in her arms. She must have got it from the TAPCON buildings during the bombing.
“Thank you, Polo. But listen, are you OK?”
Polo was silent for a moment. “No,” she said. “No… I’m not.”
She slid downwards to the floor, her back against the wall. Tears fell from her face as she curled up into a little ball, hugging the Serene and heaving gulping sobs like a drowning child.
Mikita went over to Polo and held her. “It’s all right, Po,” she whispered. “It’s all over now, the bad men have gone.” She rocked her gently for a minute or two, until, finally, Polo quietened a bit.
Mikita felt her Aunt Fizz’s presence beside her and turned around.
“More tea, dear?” said Fizz.
Epilogue
One month later…
Mikita was working on her Serene in her front room, when she heard a knock at the door. She got up from her chair and went to answer it.
Through the peep-hole, she saw a delivery-mutant holding a large box with holes punched in it all the way round - it was Gompi! Mikita opened the door.
“I got special delivery, Mikita Smith. It come from long way away,” he said, with a big grin.
“Hello, Gompi! How are you?”
“Hello, Mikita Smith. I fine.”
“You’ve got a new job, I see.”
“Yes. Looters come and take everything from Weah Mansions in Froome attack. Mr. Dontai try stop them, but he get crushed in lift. So, I look for other job. Now I drive nice van.” Gompi smiled, and pointed to the shiny, white vehicle parked outside.
“A very good decision, Gompi. And what’s this, then?” she said, nodding at the package.
“Special delivery, Mikita Smith,” Gompi repeated, holding out the parcel.
Mikita took the box from him. It wasn’t heavy, but she could feel something inside it, a scurrying motion running across the bottom. Something was moving around in the box!
“What is it?” squealed Mikita, in surpri
se.
“I know what is, Mikita Smith, but I not tell. You look, it safe. You not worry, Mikita Smith.”
Mikita put the box on the ground and pulled off the packing tape. She pushed aside the cardboard flaps and there, staring at her, from inside an animal transporter, with its floppy ears, long neck and bushy tail - was a muidog. A young muidog pup!
She opened the top of the carrier and out it leapt, nuzzling her hand and trying to lick her face.
“Oooh! Look at you! She’s gorgeous, Gompi!”
“Mikita Smith, there letter inside, too,” said Gompi, helpfully.
Mikita gave the dog to Gompi, who stroked and hugged it, while she opened the letter. It said:
Dear Mikita,
Here, for you, is Spoolu’s first born. I have called her ‘Marta’. I hope you like the name?
Love,
Zanthu
At that moment, Mikita realised that all her things were now laid out in front of her; that she only had to reach out and touch them; that her whole future was there, waiting in a special, far off place.
She looked up to the horizon, and said: “Florina. Gildan. Please come now… I am ready.”
About The Author
John K. Irvine is a writer and musician currently living in Edinburgh, Scotland.
His short stories and poetry have been published, or are forthcoming, in: Poetry Scotland, Open Mouse, Blinking Cursor, Essence, South, Ink, Sweat & Tears, A Handful of Stones and Streetcake Magazine, amongst others.
‘The Golden Circuit’ is his first full-length novel and represents ‘Book One of The Smith Chronicles’.
For more information please go to: www.johnirvinewriter.com
The Golden Circuit (The Smith Chronicles) Page 23
