Eone laughing as she piggybacked Scruff through the sewage tunnels.
Keagan at the movies, awkwardly holding the hand of the girl he’ d had a crush on since Grade 3.
Eone holding out her hand to Keagan and helping him up from the sewer floor.
Keagan and Eone opened their eyes.
Keagan felt excited. Running through his life like that, in his mind, for others to see, to feel – it made him realise how lucky he was. Lucky to be a weird, nerdy geek with a mother who loved him. Lucky to have a best friend to share things with. And lucky to have a life where he could be who he wanted to be. Different. Unique. Special.
‘Did it work?’ asked Keagan.
‘Your thoughts and feelings have been conveyed to the city’s population,’ said Coach. ‘What they make of it is up to them.’
‘You mean you don’t know if it worked?’ asked Eone.
‘This might all have been for nothing?’ asked Keagan, his voice rising a notch.
‘Perhaps,’ said Coach. He turned to the other clones. ‘How do you feel?’
‘I am not sure,’ said the first.
‘I feel like I need some time to decide what this all means,’ said the second.
‘It is like everything I have always thought is now real,’ said the third.
‘Well, this is nice.’ The voice made everyone turn to the broken window. A clone stood outside, sneering at them. Behind her, Befour had been subdued by sheer force of numbers. He was lying on the ground, held down by ten clones. Another black-clad figure was firing up cutting equipment, an intense blue flame flaring bright.
Keagan squinted at the clone. He thought she was the one he’d first met when he’d arrived. ‘55-A-1?’ he asked.
‘Ha.’ It was loud and bitter. ‘Of course you assume that. No, I am 55-A-2. And thanks to you, the city is now mine.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Keagan, staring at 55-A-2.
‘You are not very bright, are you?’ replied the clone. ‘All the little distractions you and your friends provided have allowed me to step in and take over. It was not very hard, since there was no one person in control to begin with.’
‘What about the teaching machine?’ asked Eone, still standing next to Keagan.
‘You mean 47-G-2’s absurd scheme?’ She was gloating now. ‘I knew about that all along. I let her set it up. It was ideal. Our city, our people, have never been as perfect and identical as they would like to believe. Physically, maybe … because anyone with a physical different was removed or dumped. But in here?’ She tapped a finger to her head. ‘We are all different in our own minds. I am. I have always wanted power – dominion over others. That is why my clone group ended up in charge of security. I spent my time telling those black-clad grunts what to do and how to do it.’ She paused for a triumphant smirk before continuing her rant.
‘Your teaching has shown people that what they were secretly thinking was correct. Now that they are all confirmed individuals, who all think in different ways, they are going to need someone to control them. Someone to be in authority. Someone to hold the power. I will be that person. I will have ultimate control over who lives or dies; over who is removed. With the way the teaching machines have now been set up, I could even control what everyone thinks. And as for the Dumping Ground – it might be time to flush out the impurities.’
Keagan was amazed that the clone lifted a hand and clenched it into a first, like some would-be villain in a bad movie. It almost made him want to laugh.
‘What makes you think they’ll let you have that power?’ he asked.
‘So, you can ask intelligent questions.’ 55-A-2 gave Keagan a smug look. ‘Because I control the security. I am one of two security supervisors and sadly 55-A-1… fell down some stairs when the lights went out.’
Keagan’s mind was reeling. They had been on the verge of victory, but now things were worse than ever. Their actions – his actions – had helped this power-mad clone and her villainous schemes. This world would have been better off if he had never found his way to it.
‘Aaarghhhh!’
The scream made everyone turn. Befour was struggling again. He had managed to kick the clone with the cutting equipment. The blue flame flared brighter as the equipment went skittering across the floor, making others jump out of the way.
Coach tapped Keagan on the arm to get his attention, then touched his head and mouthed the words, ‘Still connected.’
If he was still connected to the learning network, maybe Keagan could tell the people of the city what 55-A-2 was up to. All he had to do was focus and concentrate. Perhaps he could still help the people of this world.
Keagan made eye contact with Eone, then closed his eyes. In his mind, he went over what 55-A-2 had just told them. That she was planning to seize control and have power over life and death. He allowed his anger to flow through him, focusing on the need to resist. He concentrated on the right of everyone to make their own choice, and did his best to radiate those thoughts and feelings as he had done with his other memories.
Eone stepped in front of Keagan, hoping to stop 55-A-2 from noticing what he was doing. Instead, her movement drew 55-A-2’s attention to it.
‘Move!’ demanded 55-A-2. When she saw that Keagan’s eyes were closed, she guessed what he was up to.
‘You!’ she snapped at Coach. ‘If this individual teaching centre was damaged, would the rest of the teaching network still be usable?’
‘Yes,’ he answered automatically.
‘Excellent. So I can stop this brat and still have the system for my own use later. Your advice was invaluable.’ She turned around and called, ‘Security! Here. Now. Destroy this equipment.’
Keagan screwed up his eyes tighter and backed into a corner. But it was impossible to shut out all that was going on around him.
Reluctant to leave Befour, whose struggling was increasing, only a few security clones came running to 55-A-2’s command. But as they left, it gave Befour the upper hand again. He swiped at his opposition, knocking several of them over.
Keagan focused on thoughts of choice and freewill; of resisting dictators rather than following blindly those you disagreed with; of stopping 55-A-2.
56-T-1, who had been standing alongside Coach the whole time, now sprang to action and locked the door, stopping the security clones from getting through. He gave Coach a nervous smile, who responded with two thumbs up.
‘The window!’ shouted 55-A-2.
The clones hesitated.
‘Use the window, you fools.’
Two of the security clones clambered past the jagged remains of the glass, and stood to watch Keagan.
‘The controls,’ screamed 55-A-2, her voice getting hysterical. ‘Smash the controls!’
Eone moved to block their path. ‘No,’ she begged. ‘Please. You don’t have to follow her orders if you feel she is wrong. You can do what you want to do. You are individuals.’
Again the clones hesitated. They looked from Eone to 55-A-2, to Keagan. Then they crossed their arms and moved aside.
‘Useless,’ fumed 55-A-2. ‘I shall do it myself.’
But before she could climb through the window, mechanical hands grasped her shoulders and pulled her back.
‘Let go!’ she screeched. ‘Let me go!’
Befour, taller than normal in his mech-suit, lifted her up off the floor. The clones that had been fighting him stood by and watched.
‘I disagree with what you are doing,’ he said. ‘I will not be controlled by you or anyone else.’
Coach and 56-T-1 let out a spontaneous cheer.
Keagan opened his eyes. ‘Did it work?’
Eone grinned. ‘See for yourself.’
Keagan felt a tug. His mind, so occupied with helping the people here in this world, now felt the desire to go home to his own.
He was no longer needed here.
He was ready to go, but everything was a hive of activity around him. He wanted to say goodbye, but he didn’t w
ant to interrupt, and he didn’t want to be delayed.
Coach was making an announcement to the city, informing people of what had happened and acknowledging the contribution of 47-G-2, who had spent years preparing for this … but had not lived to see the outcome. 55-A-2 was being taken away by her own security force. Befour was removing his battered mech-suit, telling anyone who would listen how he had saved the day. Eone had gone to the Dumping Ground to tell the Refuse what had happened.
With all the bustle, no one was paying Keagan any attention. So he slipped away.
He walked out of the teaching centre and along a corridor. As he felt the pull of home increase, he began to jog, upping his pace until he was running. He raced along corridor after corridor until he came to the room with the broken platform.
K-2 had been reunited with his co-supervisor, and the two of them were now overseeing repairs.
‘Despite the hole in the floor,’ said K-2, ‘the platform is operable. We have rerouted control to a portable tech-screen.’ He held it up. ‘We sent Eone down a few minutes ago. If you want, we can send you as well.’
‘Yes please,’ said Keagan, with relief. ‘I really don’t want to do any more climbing.’
‘It is the least we can do,’ said K-2, smiling at the other supervisor.
Keagan stood at the opposite end of the platform to the hole and descended, leaving the clone city.
Befour’s offsider was no longer in the bunker, although bits of his mech-suit were still connected to the broken hatch.
Down Keagan went.
At the bottom of the ladder, some of the Refuse were still gathered in the tunnel. Eone had been through and told them what had happened up above; then had moved on to see the Elders. For a moment, Keagan considered going to the Elders so he could say goodbye and have one last chance to see Eone. He wanted to. But the urge to go home was getting stronger.
‘You not scaredy!’ Scruff called out from the shadows. Keagan crouched down as she approached. ‘You brave.’ She gave him a playful punch on the shoulder.
‘Say goodbye to Eone for me,’ Keagan told her. ‘Tell her … just, tell her goodbye.’
‘Okay,’ she said with a squeal, and ran off.
Keagan knew where he had to go. He could feel it. The tug had become a strong pull, like he had an invisible rope tied around his middle and he was being yanked by it. He ran. He ran as fast as he could, fetid sewage splashing up around him. Wet again!
He wound his way through tunnel after tunnel. Then Keagan stopped. He was in the right place.
Up ahead, in the gloom, he could see a shimmering – like the heat rising from a road on a baking summer’s day. As he came closer, it became more distinct and an image took form within the distortion. He could see trees and grass and a blue sky. It looked like his backyard.
He shivered with anticipation and prepared to leap through.
‘WAIT!’
Keagan turned to see Eone, the soft glow of a tech-screen highlighting her face. She was pointing to the shimmering image, jaw hanging open. ‘Is that … is that the Outside?’
‘Yeah.’ Keagan grinned. ‘Outside.’
‘It’s … incredible.’
‘Wanna come?’ asked Keagan.
‘Yes,’ said Eone. ‘And no.’ She didn’t move.
‘I’m no good at goodbyes,’ Keagan said with a shrug.
‘Neither am I,’ admitted Eone.
She ran up and hugged him. He hugged her back. Those few seconds felt like an eternity.
Despite the pull of home, Keagan had a sudden thought – perhaps staying here with Eone wouldn’t be so bad. But how could he turn his back on his life?
Of course, he couldn’t.
Eone let go of him.
‘What are you waiting for?’ asked Eone.
‘Nothing,’ said Keagan, with a laugh.
And he leapt through the doorway.
Keagan felt like he was riding the Vomitron again.
He tried to settle his insides. Looking around, he saw that he was indeed in his own backyard. He had assumed he would return to where he’d left – the shop. Wondering what had happened there, he realised he’d need to go back to find out.
But for the moment, he inhaled deeply, savouring the fresh air. Relief flooded over him. He was home.
‘What are you doing out there?’ It was his mum, calling through the open kitchen window.
‘Ah … nothing,’ said Keagan, approaching her. The Perfect clones and the Refuse might have believed his story of travel between worlds without question, but he didn’t think his mum would.
As Keagan got closer to the window, his mum’s mouth dropped open.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.
She pointed a finger at him. ‘What in the world happened to you?’
‘Huh?’
‘Your clothes,’ said his mum. ‘Have you been crawling around in the mud? And … oh my goodness … you’ve torn your shirt.’
Keagan looked down at his clothes.
‘Goodness me, Keagan, I thought I could trust you to behave on your own for one day. You said you were going to spend the afternoon playing some new computer game with Ravi.’ She bit her lip, trying to calm down. ‘Get in here now!’
As Keagan opened the back door, his mum cried out, ‘What is that stench?’
‘Sorry.’ Keagan’s voice was small and embarrassed.
‘Have you been playing in a sewer or something?’ His mum had a revolted expression on her face. ‘No, don’t answer that yet,’ she added hastily. ‘Go have a shower. Then we’ll burn your clothes. And then you can explain what’s been going on.’
It was in the shower that Keagan remembered the pickles. He was supposed to have bought them before his mum got home. She’s already mad, he thought. This’ll make her blow her top. And that’s when it struck him – it had all happened so fast. It had felt like he was in that other world for ages. But he had made it home before the day was over. He had missed his online tournament with Ravi, but maybe there was still time for pickles?
Getting out of the shower, Keagan dressed in fresh clothes and snuck out his bedroom window. Then he was through the side gate and down the street as fast as he could go. He told himself he was sneaking out to get the pickles, but really it was because he wanted to go back to the shop – to find out what had happened to Matilda and her doorway. So he ran all the way to the industrial estate and the little shop nestled between two deserted factories.
Except that it wasn’t there.
In its place was a massive pile of rubble.
Keagan skirted around the edges of the debris, wondering what had happened. Had it been destroyed by the darkness? Had the strange old woman managed to close the door way? Surely she must. There was no sign of the darkness now. There was no damage other than to the shop. Perhaps throwing that other key into the doorway had closed it? Or maybe it had been Matilda’s blood on the coin? Or had Matilda managed to get through, the doorway closing behind her just like his had? He would probably never know.
Keagan looked across the remains of the shop, his eyes searching for … something. He had a momentary, crazy hope that there might be another key and that it might open another door. But no. His adventure was over.
Something caught his eye. He moved closer and saw the remains of a stuffed kitten. He shuddered, ready to leave. And then he saw it, just behind the kitty … the folder. Its plastic edges were twisted and melted, the stickers scuffed and discoloured. He felt a slight tingle as he picked it up, and a need to protect it.
Tucking it under his arm, he went to the supermarket to complete his pickle mission, then went straight home. He had just climbed in through the window, when his mum banged on his door.
‘Where are those pickles I asked you to get before I got home?’ she demanded. ‘Don’t tell me you forgot to go to the shops.’
Keagan put the folder under his bed and opened the door, holding out the jar with a smile.
His mum grunted a
nd headed back to the kitchen.
‘Dinner in fifteen minutes,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Then you can explain.’
Keagan closed the door, fished the folder out from under the bed and opened it. The plastic sleeves were crumpled and torn. Only one piece of parchment remained. He fished it out and ran a hand over it, staring at the indecipherable writing. He wondered who or what had created the keys, and what sort of worlds they might lead to. Had anyone else found keys? Were other people going on adventures like his?
When his mother called that dinner was ready, he stowed the folder under his bed again.
During a less than impressive meal (pickles in the salad was bad enough, but they were also in the pumpkin soup), his mum quizzed him about his day.
‘Would you believe that an old lady in a strange shop gave me a key that opened a doorway into another world where a bunch of clones dumped people into a sewer?’
Soup spoon half-raised to her mouth, his mum tilted her head to one side and arched an eyebrow.
‘So that would be a no?’ said Keagan. ‘Okay … so how about this? I went to the park and fell into a stinky patch of mud and tore my shirt on a rusty bit of metal as I was trying to get out.’
‘Now why couldn’t you just tell me the truth straightaway?’
Keagan shrugged.
Keagan went to bed early that night. He was exhausted from his extraordinary day, but lay awake for ages, thinking through all that had happened. And also wondering what he would do now.
His adventure was over. His key was gone. He would never be able to get back to that strange other world. But he didn’t feel ready to let it all go either. He had to do something.
As he drifted off to sleep, his mind was full of clones, junk labyrinths and a girl named Eone.
When Keagan awoke the next morning, he had the answer.
He would become a collector. Not a collector of things like Matilda … but a collector of stories. Just like Eone. He would find other people who had been through doorways. And he would get them to tell their stories.
He knew how to program and he knew how to build a website. So he would use his nerdy talents to carry out his plan.
Perfect World Page 7
