Someone approached her through the rain, a pale young man dressed in black, carrying a wrinkled shopping bag. He cocked his head and looked at her, interested, until he stood in front of her. She stared at his face, which was handsome, but absolutely colourless. His pale eyes defied her understanding. He took her hand and she gasped at his touch. She didn’t know what this thing was, but somehow she trusted it.
~
The jackrabbit led Stefan along the wooded edge of the river then stopped. He cautiously approached the animal, then picked it up. He tucked its legs under it and held it close, stroking its soft fur. The animal turned its head and looked up the path. Stefan followed its gaze and saw a raccoon. The furry mound with a striped tail looked at him with masked eyes, as if challenging him. He remembered from the forest how audacious the beasts could be. He didn’t, however, question how it could be here, since he could hardly explain how he was there.
The raccoon waddled along the path, and Stefan followed it with his rabbit in his arms.
Up ahead, a small rowboat came into view. The raccoon stopped and clambered into it. Stefan saw a stone archway across the river, with steps leading from the water’s edge up through the arch. He got into the boat, set the rabbit next to the raccoon, and rowed. The river was still, and they reached the other shore easily.
The animals jumped from the boat. The rabbit leapt up the stairs, and the raccoon pulled its round body up one step then the next. Stefan ran past them. The stairs continued a long way up from the water, up to a small building like a large sepulchre.
Stefan stepped through the open doorway of the structure. Robert Mackechnie waited there for him, sitting on a stone bench, his broad smile showing through his beard. Stefan joined him on the bench. He grinned. Despite the confusion and loss he’d experienced he felt strangely happy here. They smiled at each other for several minutes in silence punctuated only with occasional laughter.
~
Peter led Delonia by the hand out of the shadows into the sepulchre. Stefan leapt up when he saw them, and ran to hug her.
“Oh, my boy,” she said, kissing him as tears sprung to her eyes. Stefan moved aside, and she saw Robert Mackechnie sitting in the dim light. Her mouth opened, then she put her hand to it. Robert moved slowly to her, then, because this place afforded him so much substance, touched her face. He kissed her, then they hugged each other tight.
“I’ve missed you so much,” said Delonia.
Stefan felt Peter’s hand slip into his.
“There’s so much to explain,” said Stefan to his mother.
Delonia looked at him, laughing through her tears, “I don’t want an explanation. I don’t care.” She turned back to her husband. “I don’t care.”
Robert looked at Peter. They smiled at each other in acknowledgement, having surmised who each other was. Peter held out something for Robert. Stefan recognised it as the shopping bag into which they’d stuffed all the notes Peter received during their nights together.
Robert reached into the bag and drew out a sheaf of intact, but old papers. He moved his mouth slowly and carefully, drawing breath for the first time in decades. He sat back down on the bench and spoke, his voice cracked from disuse. “Morton and I,” he said, “we were friends once. We started that company together as ambitious young men. But then I discovered music, and soon after met your mother. I didn’t care about business or profits, so I left him to it. There was a proviso in the contract we signed with each other, though, that should anything happen to either of us, our children would inherit our share of the business.”
“You mean that—?”
“Yes, Stefan. Half of what’s his is yours.” Robert stood and moved close to Stefan. He stuffed the contract down the front of Stefan’s shirt. “He can’t touch you now. And you have a decision to make.”
Twenty-Eight
Losing It
The family marched into the city. Stefan walked in front with Peter a pace behind. Delonia and Robert walked side by side. Delonia sang to calm both of them, but Robert’s face wore a grim expression. As they stepped onto the Royal Mile, the clouds ahead reacted to their presence.
A broad swath of black shot down from overhead and swept toward them. Peter grabbed Stefan to try to protect him, but Stefan simply put an arm around him and kept moving forward. The blackness parted like a curtain around him then closed again, passing over Delonia and Robert. Panicked, Stefan turned to search for them in the darkness. As it moved away, he saw his mother warbling frantically to herself, and his father looking insubstantial and poorly. Stefan gestured for them all to move up and walk close to him.
They continued their march, passing under a large square clock that jutted from a stone building. A thin shaft of non-light passed through it, and the heavy shape tipped and was about to fall on them. Stefan pressed his hand to the wall and iron vines grew out to pull the clock back into place.
As he stepped, cobbles bubbled up through the tarmac to meet his feet.
Clouds roiled, lower now. Beams of darkness shot from the clouds at all angles. Where Stefan looked, his gaze restored the features that had just been erased. But there were too many clouds for him. He leaned over, putting his hands on his knees. Peter rested a hand on his shoulder. From his right, Stefan saw a small group of people emerge from a close. They joined the family, and they all continued up the street.
~
The motorcade pulled into the castle esplanade and stopped there. Morton stepped from his long, black car and surveyed the sky overhead, then turned to the castle and smiled. This will do nicely, he thought, heading toward the front gates that guarded the highest point in the city.
He strolled through the sets of heavy wooden doors and metal gates with his entourage in tow—assistants, planners, lawyers, and a pair of bodyguards who were bald, tall, stocky, and wore heavy black pea-coats. Morton and his bodyguards left the procession and walked through the nautilus-shell streets of the hilltop stronghold—which was more like a fortified city than a castle.
Reaching a courtyard at the top of the castle, Morton stopped and knelt down. He steepled a hand on the ground and looked to one side in concentration, as if feeling for something. He pressed his hand flat, and the ground trembled, as if in fear.
~
A large crowd walked with the Mackechnies. The surviving members of the temple gang joined them, along with travellers, pensioners, young couples in shell-suits with prams, businesspeople, and countless others. Whatever they looked on as they walked was not lost. Whitewashed, flattened, modernised surfaces sprang forth with new details.
The ground rumbled beneath their feet, and several members of the group fell down. The tremor came from the castle. As they looked in that direction, they saw a pillar of thick black smoke churning from the castle hill.
Stefan broke into a run and the others followed.
As they got closer, they saw smoke and fire burst from the windows and portals of the castle buildings. The fire was followed by streams of molten liquid that oozed down the ragged sides of the hill. The streams crystallised into planes of glass and pipes of steel, forming a vast structure. As the ooze spread and cooled, the structure grew. Giant metal cranes rose from the magma, walking and swinging their heads back and forth, destroying with massive metal balls or hooks anything that stood in their path.
The crowd reached the front gates of the castle and overran the members of Morton’s entourage gathered there. Stefan and Peter ran toward the castle’s summit, followed close behind by Delonia and Robert. They found Morton kneeling on the cobbled courtyard floor. Steam and smoke rose from the stones around him. His two bodyguards stood on either side of him.
As Stefan approached, the bodyguards ran at him. Peter leapt in the way, swinging an arm hard at one of the men. The burly man flew across the courtyard and struck a wall, then fell in a heap. The second bodyguard drew a knife and plunged it into Peter’s side. Peter grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it until he let go of the knife. With h
is other hand, he drew out the knife, releasing a thin trail of smoke, and threw the weapon away. He grabbed the man by the neck with both hands and lifted him into the air, then walked with him across the courtyard to a shadowed corner. He plunged the man’s head and shoulders into the darkness and held him there. The bodyguard struggled against Peter’s grip. His legs kicked wildly several times, then went limp.
Stefan walked to the spot where Morton knelt. The man looked up at him and stood. He smiled. “Did you come to claim your share?”
“No. I wouldn’t even consider it. I came to stop you,” answered Stefan.
“I thought you might. But do you really believe you can?” He pointed through the courtyard entrance to the city beyond. “You may not like what I’ve done, but do you have a better idea?”
Stefan’s heart filled with doubt.
Morton looked at Delonia and Robert as they walked into the courtyard. Confused but determined, he addressed Stefan. “You Mackechnies never did understand progress. It’s inevitable. It’s evolution.”
“I don’t believe that,” said Stefan. “Evolution is about variety, not everything becoming the same. Why be alive at all if you’ve sacrificed what’s unique about yourself?”
“But everyone wants the same thing—to enjoy the good life. I’m giving them that,” countered Morton.
“Life is already good,” said Stefan.
“You don’t understand change at all,” said Morton, “but you will.” He pulled up his sleeve and thrust his hand into Stefan’s jacket. He closed his eyes as he pressed the hand against Stefan’s chest.
A second later, Morton’s eyes flew open. His jaw dropped and his body jerked. Black ink from the contract in Stefan’s shirt threaded its way up Morton’s arm, into his neck, and through his face. He spluttered and guttural noises came from his throat. The ink spread blue-black throughout his body and he grew rigid, solid.
Stefan stepped away. Morton the statue looked on in horror, as he would from then forward.
Stefan walked from the courtyard to a vantage-point on one of the castle walls. The clouds continued to roll over the city, but more slowly now, and their bruised blue-grey turned into a soft grey-white. Instead of darkness, they dropped snow on the streets, the buildings, and the people below.
New snow covered the faceless wrecks of Morton’s creations, which comprised most of the city. When the snow grew heavy, the structures slumped and collapsed, releasing clouds of powder.
The family fled the castle. The snow continued falling thick and heavy as they ran across the esplanade. The crowd they’d left there had dispersed, or vanished.
The wind picked up, and the family looked at each other through the heavy flakes, realising they had no place to go.
They walked together to a small covered staircase, and huddled close together as the snow blew in.
Epilogue
Ex Nihilo
Stefan opened his eyes. He looked at Peter, who lay next to him, breathing deeply. Peter’s cheeks were each tinted with a rosy stripe. Stefan kissed him and felt the softness and warmth of his face. He shook Peter gently and watched as his dark brown eyes opened. They smiled at each other.
Robert and Delonia stirred, waking where they huddled, hand in hand. Delonia looked at her husband, touched his face, and kissed him. Stefan and Peter stood up and took their hands. Together, they all walked into the street below, which was illuminated by the light of a yellowy-pink dawn.
Other figures walked along the street, and the family joined them, heading somewhere. As they walked, Stefan recognised details of the city he’d lost, every good idea rescued here, held together with vines that grew everywhere.
They walked down then up, following the crowd, until they reached a giant, domed hall. Before they entered, Stefan looked back. Something occurred to him, something he felt the truth of.
We’ve gone to the place where ideas come from.
The place was full of colour and light. Every detail was as sharp as if it had just been created. When he’d learned enough, perhaps he’d go back. For now, though, he was happy here.
Music flowed from the domed hall, and his parents were clearly eager to join in.
Stefan took Peter’s hand. They smiled at each other and walked through the door.
Colophon
Many thanks to the group who read the story in serial form, whose feedback and corrections were an immense help:
Kristie Cameron
Mark Cosgrove
Sheila Collins
Louis Dimitracopoulos
Robert Goderre
Martin Hunt
Doug Morrison
Isaac & Gretel Meyer-Odell
Lisa Olafson
Sean Parker
Jeff Plotnikoff
Geoff Pradella
Anne Putnam
Patrick Robertshaw
Ross Slater
Most of all, love and thanks to my family—Bryson, Joan, Ian, Ellen, and Andrew.
Hamish MacDonald is the author of doubleZero, The Willies, Idea in Stone, and Finitude.
For more stories or to learn more about micropress publishing, visit hamishmacdonald.com
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