* * *
Early in the evening I woke up and crawled out from my hiding place.
“Jonathan,” a voice said. I turned around. No-one was there.
“Jonathan,” the echo came again; it was in my mind, my imagination, not audible. A female voice, a child’s voice, a friend, or someone close to me. Amelia - that was the name that came to mind.
Who was Amelia? Who was Jonathan? Could I be Jonathan?
I looked around where I was.
Another spider’s web, lit by the light of the moon, caught my eye.
The sight awakened another fragmentary memory - in a bathroom; in the mirror - a fly hanging on a piece of spider web from the ceiling. I moved my head - from a certain angle, the fly was magnified by a strange bump in the mirror.
It wasn’t a fly. It had the compound eye and wings of a fly, but it had eight legs. Even more startling - the creature was looking back at me, with a disconcertingly intelligent gaze. It was a splyder; neither spider nor fly, but a combination of the two.
How did I know that? I couldn’t remember.
Then I saw my own reflection, in the mirror, in my memories. Rather accentuated eyebrows. A rough texture to my skin, large pores, though that could be an effect of the strange mirror’s magnification. Dark eyes. A stony gaze.
Young, twelve years old, perhaps.
Then I looked at the real spider’s web again, the London spider’s web - I realised it wasn’t lit by the moon - the moon wasn’t shining. It was something else.
I walked down the alley-way a short distance and saw a lit lamp-post for the first time.
It was not a gas lantern.
Awe-struck by the marvel, I stared at it for a while, and then returned to the dark shadows.
Steam Submarine Zelf Page 7
