The Bubble Boy

by Stewart Foster

  ‘Oh, the TVs!’ He opens his arms wide. ‘12 x 1920 x 1080 HDMI DVI Full HD. My brother get them from his work. They’re upgrading to Hitachi. Do you like them?’

  ‘Yes, I like them, but Amir—’

  ‘What? They the wrong colour? We could get some paint and spray them silver.’

  ‘No, it’s not that.’

  ‘What then?’

  I hold out my hands. ‘Amir, why did you get so many?’

  ‘Oh.’ He puts his hand on his head like he’s only just noticed. ‘That how many he get. I know you had room. You saw me measure the wall. Have you switched them on yet?’

  ‘No, I couldn’t find the remote.’

  ‘Oh, sorry. I take it home.’ He taps his pockets. ‘Here.’ He hands me the remote. It’s got more buttons on it than I’ve ever seen. Amir leans over and points. ‘You press the red button first, then the green.’

  I press the red button. I hear the click of speakers then the sound of static. Three of the screens flicker on. There’s a picture of cars and trucks going down a street, another of a dark empty alley, then another alley with a black stairwell, full of boxes and bins.

  I look at Amir. ‘I thought you said we were getting Sky.’

  ‘Press the button again.’

  I do as he says and four more screens flicker on. There’s a delivery lorry parked on a kerb, a security guard standing by a door, a man walking with a briefcase and a lady typing on a laptop behind a glass screen. I don’t know what I’m watching but it isn’t Sky.

  ‘Amir, what are you doing? Are you going to rob a bank?’

  ‘Ha, no, come here.’

  I follow him over to the window. He looks down onto the street then back at the screens. The delivery van stops in the road. The delivery van stops on the screen. I scratch my head.

  ‘Amir, what have you done?’

  ‘Me and Rashid. We get you hospital CCTV.’

  I shake my head. I didn’t want CCTV. I only wanted Sky. I walk along the screens and look at them one by one. The security guard throws his cigarette on the ground and walks back around the corner. He disappears from one screen and then appears on another. He nods at the people who walk past him through the hospital doors. I follow them inside; they form a queue in front of the lady typing behind the screen. On the next screen the bus has stopped and people are getting off, some wear coats, some carry rucksacks, some carry plastic bags.

  I shake my head.

  ‘You no like it?’

  I don’t know what to say to him. He’s gone to all this trouble but I didn’t want this. All I wanted was to watch football and films, I didn’t want to see traffic and people walking without sound. I can do that every day when I look out of the window.

  Amir stands in front of me. ‘I thought I show you real people, not film stars.’

  ‘But real people don’t do anything interesting.’

  ‘They do. They walk, they talk. Not everyone run around shouting and firing guns.’ He takes the remote from me. ‘Look,’ he says, ‘there’s thirty-two cameras. Two in reception, sixteen in the corridors, four on the roof and . . .’ He stops talking and turns his head like a dog.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s okay . . . I think I hear someone coming. If they do, just press this button or we get into trouble.’ He presses a red button and the TVs change to colour – a woman is reading the news from a studio in Moscow; a reporter is standing in front of the Empire State building in New York; ten people are playing ice-hockey live from Ontario and women are playing volleyball on a beach in Brazil.

  ‘Wow!’ I put my hands on my head.

  ‘Haha. You think I not get you Sky too?’

  ‘I was worried.’

  ‘Of course we got Sky. I get you the other satellites too. Now we watch TV all day and all night. Rashid get us extra 847 channels, 36 countries.’

  ‘Do you think we’ll be able to see Henry when he goes to the mall? He’ll be on Philly news.’

  ‘Umm . . . I not know, sound like it might be cable. I ask Rashid.’ Amir presses another button. ‘Hey, we got MasterChef in Italian.’

  I shake my head.

  ‘What? No MasterChef?’

  ‘No, it’s not that. It’s just . . . Amir, I can’t believe what you’ve done.’

  ‘It great,’ he says. ‘Which one we watch? This one?’ He points at the first screen on the second row. A shark swims across an ocean. Amir presses another button. All the screens go blank, then bits of the shark appear on all the screens: its head in the top left, its tail in the bottom right. It swims towards a man in a cage with a harpoon. ‘Oops,’ says Amir. ‘Maybe we watch something not so scary.’

  I turn and walk back to my bed. Amir gives me the remote and sits down in the chair by my side. I press another button and we watch a programme about how skyscrapers are built to survive earthquakes in San Francisco. Amir’s eyes are shining so brightly that the skyscrapers reflect in his eyes. We both smile. Greg was right. He was building me a cinema. I might not watch hospital CCTV very much but I didn’t think Sky would be as good as this.

  Amir has to go and look after the others so he leaves me to watch TV on my own all afternoon. I watch a woman white-water rafting down a river and a man snowboarding down a mountain, then I try out some of my DVDs – The Amazing Spider-Man, Avengers Assemble, Batman Returns – I loved them on normal TV, I love them even more on my massive screens.

  I take a picture on my phone and send it to Henry.

  Thor never looked so big!

  15:06

  I wait for a few minutes but Henry doesn’t reply. I find the scene where Thor smashes a truck into a burning building. I wish Henry could see this. We could sit here all afternoon and flick through the sports and movie channels, and MTV. We could connect my X-Box too. I check my messages again. Maybe he’s preparing for another walk. What if his walk in the mall goes well? They probably still won’t let him come over here but he’ll be out all the time. He won’t have time to message me or play Tekken. He’ll be busy like everyone else. Even Beth is too busy now. I look up at my screens. I love what Amir has done but it’s not so much fun watching them on my own. There’s no one to point out things to, or to laugh with or cheer with when someone scores a goal. But I shouldn’t be grumpy. I should be grateful. It must be the drugs. Maybe it’s because I’m tired. I pick up the remote and turn the screens off.

  Amir turns them back on when he brings me my tea. He asks me if I’m fed up with them already. I tell him I love them but I’ve been thinking about Henry and that he seems busy.

  ‘But he won’t be all the time. Anyway,’ he says. ‘Maybe you get busy too.’

  ‘In here?’

  ‘No, but if the suits works for him maybe you can wear it too.’

  ‘I don’t think so. It’s too expensive and Henry’s way bigger than me. They wouldn’t do it and the European Space Agency still hasn’t replied.’

  ‘We don’t need them. I could make you one. We can’t go to Philadelphia, but there’s a shopping centre near Enfield.’

  ‘Amir, I’m serious. They’ve got scientists.’

  ‘I serious too. I got my brother. He go to university.’

  ‘Is he a scientist?’

  ‘No, he get a degree in Geography.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘We a great team. I design the suit, he tell us how to get there – wow, ninety minutes.’

  ‘What?’

  Amir nods at the screens. ‘Ninety minutes. The sperm whale can hold its breath for ninety minutes. I held mine for four when I got stuck in the lift last week.’

  I lay back on my bed. The TVs have been on too long. My head is aching and I feel really tired and Amir is talking about things that can’t happen.

  ‘I think we should turn them off now,’ I say.

  Amir looks at me. ‘Turn the TVs off? We only just got them. You need to watch them, watch everyone in the hospital, the doctors, the nurses, the security guard.’

/>   ‘The security guard?’

  ‘Jim, he funny. He come in when everyone go. Haven’t you seen him yet?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You should. Watch him tonight. He funnier than Ricky Gervais.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘No matter. Just watch.’

  ‘But I need to turn them off sometime. Won’t they get warm and make the room warmer?’

  Amir shakes his head. ‘No, the thermostat will adjust and keep the room temperature constant, anyway, we can’t turn them off, there’s another programme I want you to watch at eight. It’s about orangutans.’

  ‘Why do I want to watch that?’

  ‘Don’t you like orangutans?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so, but I might fall asleep before it starts.’

  ‘I set the alarm on your laptop.’

  ‘Can’t I watch it on catch-up?’

  ‘I get you hundreds of channels and you want catch-up?’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay, I only joking.’

  He points the remote. The screens go blank then he gets up and walks towards the door. ‘See you later.’

  ‘Okay.’ I smile and close my eyes. My head begins to thud. I’m supposed to be taking it easy. Amir should know I’m not supposed to get as tired as this. He’s talked so much he’s made me confused. He can’t build me a suit; it costs millions. He can’t really mean it, and even if he did, how would he get me out without being spotted? I love Amir and I love my TVs but I can’t help think he’s bought them for himself and not for me.

  The sun is shining and so are the car roofs. I’m in the back of our car, Beth is next to me playing on her DS, Mum and Dad are in the front seats talking and listening to music.

  ‘Can I put the window down?’

  ‘It’s hotter outside.’

  ‘But can I put it down?’

  ‘Yes, okay.’

  I wind down the window and look out. A little girl in the car next to me is asleep with her head against the glass.

  A man gets out of the car behind.‘It’s an accident,’ he shouts.‘Just heard it on the radio. Twenty-seven-car pile-up.’

  ‘Yeah, heard it too,’ shouts another man.

  He looks up at the sky. I hear the thud of rotor blades. I lean out of the window and three helicopters fly over my head.

  Dad is smiling at me in the wing mirror and I reach out and touch his arm.

  ‘How’re you doing, Spidey?’ Dad says.

  ‘I’m okay, but the man just said there’s a bad accident up ahead. 27 cars.’

  ‘I know.’ He smiles again then rests his head on his hand.

  Beth is laid out flat on the seat. Her hair is hanging down over her face and her DS is smashed on the floor.

  ’Hey, Beth,’ I say. ‘It’s an accident, 27 cars . . . and you missed the helicopters.’

  I lean over. My seat belt pulls me back. I move it down onto my belly and reach out further. ‘Beth, the helicopters, there were three of them.’

  Beth’s hand falls off the seat. I pull her hair back off her face. There’s a cut across her cheek. A line of blood trickles from her nose.

  ‘Mum! Dad! There’s something wrong with Beth!’ I tap Mum on the shoulder. Her head falls forward onto her chest. Dad turns around.

  ‘Get out, Joe,’ he says. ‘The petrol is coming in.’

  I look down. Petrol is seeping under the door and covering my feet. The smell burns up my nose and makes me feel sick.

  ‘Joe, now.’

  ‘But –’ I pull at my seat-belt and reach down for the button. ‘Dad, I’m stuck!’

  ‘Press the button, Joe. The red button.’

  ‘I am, Dad. I am!’

  I look up through the windscreen. Four firemen run towards me, hoses and axes in their hands. Behind them I see ambulances and police cars and blue flashing lights. I press the button. It clicks but my belt doesn’t release. Dad reaches back, pushes my hand out of the way. My belt goes slack.

  ‘Now go, Joe.’

  I look around the car.

  ‘But what about Beth, Dad? What about Mum?’

  He shakes his head. A fireman reaches in through my window. He grabs my hand, wraps his arm around my chest.

  ‘Come on, son. Let’s go.’ He drags me out.

  ‘What about my mum and dad . . . and my sister?’

  He looks in the car then back at me.

  ‘Son, there’s no one else here.’

  I look back at the car. Mum and Dad and Beth have gone. All the traffic has gone; it’s just white lines and tarmac for miles and miles. I look back for the fireman. He’s gone too.

  I open my eyes. My hair is wet and my pyjama shirt is stuck to my skin. I shiver and wrap my arms around my body. The room temperature is constant but I still feel cold. I take off my top and pull my sheets up. They’re wetter and colder than I am. My phone buzzes and makes me jump. The screen’s all blurry. I blink. It’s a text from Amir.

  Hey Joe, you wake?

  Yes.

  Good. Is the TV on?

  No.

  Why not?

  I’ve just had a nightmare.

  Are you okay? Is Greg there?

  No.

  Charlotte?

  No. I just need to go to the bathroom.

  Okay.

  I put my feet on the floor and walk to the end of my bed and stop. My heart still thuds in my chest and my hands are shaking. I walk to the bathroom and take off my pyjamas. My body is skinny and white under the light and my eyes look big for my face. I turn on the taps and wash my face. This nightmare is the worst one I have, and the one I’ve had most. I used to call Beth after I had it. She says I still should but I know it upsets her to talk about it, and it upsets me too. It’s hard to talk about a nightmare when most of it is true.

  In my nightmare I am always there in the back of the car, but I wasn’t there at all. It was just Beth and Mum and Dad. They were on the way back home to St Albans after visiting me. I can’t remember saying goodbye to them; all I can remember is both my nans and grandads coming in to see me the next day. They never told me what happened, only that there had been a crash – I don’t remember much about the day, everything was a blur. I think I was playing with soldiers on my bed. People were walking around and talking to me, they kept telling me Beth was injured and that Mum and Dad were dead. It was like my brain had been switched off, because all I can remember are the soldiers and the tanks and then looking up at the transition room door, waiting for them to come in. Beth says maybe it’s better that way. Sometimes I wish she would talk about it so I knew what happened. I didn’t find out for ages until I got my laptop and searched it. A lorry was in front of Dad. It swerved to miss another car and jack-knifed across the road. Four other people died as well. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t looked it up. But if I didn’t have this nightmare it would only be replaced by something else. I screw my eyes up tight and bury my head in the towel. I’m always a superhero in my dreams. I wish I could have been one that day.

  I go back into my room, get some clean pyjamas from my wardrobe. My phone buzzes. It’s Amir again. I should be grateful that he’s chatting to me but after my nightmare all I want to do now is lie down and go to sleep.

  Joe, are you sure you’re okay?

  Yes, I’m better.

  Maybe this is no good idea. It wait.

  No, it sounds important.

  You sure?

  Yes. Watching orangutans might help me forget about things.

  There no orangutans.

  What?

  It no matter. Just don’t touch nothing else. Not the satellite.

  I pick up the remote and turn the TV on.

  Turn on all the screens and put your headphones on.

  Amir, what are you doing?

  All done that? Joe?

  I sigh and walk over to my PlayStation and put my headphones on.

  My phone buzzes again.

  Now turn on all the screens.

  I press the button. All the
screens flicker on. It’s dark, just shadows, then a light flashes on and lights a path that leads to a door. I hear a voice in my headphones.

  ‘Can you hear me?’

  ‘Amir?’

  Amir laughs. ‘Well, at least I know you hear me. But can you see too?’

  ‘Yes, I can see. But Amir, what are you doing?’

  The camera moves up the path towards the door. It’s painted green with little bits of red and there’s a bronze number 8. Amir’s hand appears and lifts a knocker.

  ‘Amir, where are you?’

  A light switches on above the door. I hear a lock turn. Amir chuckles.

  ‘Joe, you say you wish you meet my family.’

  ‘Um, yes, but . . .’

  The door opens and the light shines out. A woman stands in the doorway. She wears an orange sari with a bright blue sash across her shoulder. She’s got a bindi mark on her head.

  Amir steps over the doormat and gives her a kiss. ‘Joe, this is Abha, my wife. Abha, this is Joe.’

  ‘Hello, Joe.’

  ‘Say hello, Joe.’

  I kneel up on my bed. ‘Hello, Abba,’ I say.

  ‘No, Abha,’ says Amir. ‘Abha – beautiful glow, lustrous beauty.’

  Abha puts her hand over her mouth. ‘Amir, stop.’

  ‘But it true,’ says Amir. ‘Don’t you think, Joe?’

  ‘Yes.’ I think she’s one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen.

  Abha smiles and looks at the ground. I hear screaming and shouting. Three children run through the hall and disappear through a doorway. I swing my legs over the side of my bed and look at the screen. My heart is beating fast and my face is aching. I can’t stop smiling. It’s like I’m unwrapping the biggest present I ever had. I can’t believe it’s happening. I put my hand up to the side of my face and pull the microphone close to my mouth.

  ‘Amir, how did you do this?’

  He laughs. ‘It’s easy, Joe. I connect laptop to camera and put camera on my head.’ He looks down and opens the buttons on his shirt. I see the hairs on his chest, below that his laptop is strapped to his belly with black tape. He shows me the camera wire that comes out of a port on the laptop and tracks it up his body until it disappears into the hairs under his arm. Then he closes the door, walks into the hall and stops by a mirror. I laugh. The camera shakes. Amir is laughing too. A camera is strapped to his head with a sweatband and above it is a picture of me smiling.