by Teri Terry
When at last the arrows take me to her she is facing the other way, and I pause, study her. There is something about her that is calm and almost regal, while everything in and outside of me is a swirling storm. Even her hair flutters gently about her face, hanging in the void. Mine whips against the constraints of its ponytail, fighting to be free.
Then she turns, smiles to see me. ‘There you are. Did you have trouble finding me?’
‘A bit. It took a while to make myself do it this time.’
She inclines her head. ‘Taming your will in the void is one of the first challenges a S’hacker must face.’
Now that her eyes are on me here I feel her power like a physical thing, one that makes me aware of all that I lack. ‘I don’t understand why you’re not training me.’
‘Luna, you are of the elements. Training wouldn’t enhance your skills, it would curtail them.’
‘Heywood doesn’t agree with you.’
She raises an eyebrow. ‘His opinion is of no consequence. He’s not one of us.’ Her shoulders rise in a shrug, dismissive, and it needles: he’s not a S’hacker and so can’t manipulate the void, but so what? It makes me remember all the slights from my classmates because I didn’t plug in at school. I’m still the same person I was then.
‘Isn’t he part of your organisation?’
‘He is useful; he will continue to be useful. He will never be in charge.’ She smiles. ‘But this is a diversion from what we are here for. Are you ready?’ she asks.
‘No. But do it anyway.’
‘It won’t hurt. I promise.’
As before when she timed Gecko’s S’hack, power swirls about her in a vortex. But this time there is more power, so much more, and I’m inside the vortex with her. We’re spinning in a swirl of silver so fast that everything about me is a blur, and I have to fight myself to not pull away, to not resist.
And then, all at once, we are back. Back in time to when I last plugged into the void before I left home for the transport to Inaccessible Island. To when I threw a star into the void for Nanna, and watched it fall. To when I ran out on Gecko for telling me his crazy theories about PareCo. Not so crazy, after all.
Tempo winds time forwards from then to now, more slowly, and the memories unwind with time. She is spinning them away – wisps of thought, feeling and sensation that are part of me now become part of the vortex swirling around us. As she does so, everything is relived in a strange fast-forward:
The note on the flowers sent by Dr Rafferty: my transfer cancelled.
Saying goodbye to my family; Dad giving me Astra’s silver necklace, on which so much depended.
The transport. Hex. Gecko appearing; his strange words.
The crash, coming to this place, the fear.
The void; collapsing it, and Gecko’s pain.
And Astra’s memories. If I don’t manage to restore my own memories, these will be lost forever. It hurts to relive the joy she felt when I was born, knowing as I do now that she gave up the memories she stored for me. That Tempo did this to her all those years ago like she is doing to me now.
And Astra’s words to me as she stared in the mirror. Listening to them a second time I’m struck again by all she doesn’t say. And by trust no one; trust only yourself. Repeated twice with more emphasis on the words than I noticed the first time.
All she doesn’t say?
The first time I experienced her memories, I thought she was afraid of someone listening in. Tempo was listening! She was there to unwind Astra’s memories, to store them away. She was there the whole time.
My memories are swirling up in silver, and I struggle to focus my thoughts, to pull them back.
Tempo had said bringing me to Heywood’s house was the only way she could reach me. That they needed me to be safe until my time came: that she trusts me to do what is right when I know the truth.
But what is the truth?
Part of Tempo’s truth is that she wants power, to take over from PareCo. For some reason I don’t understand, she thinks she needs me to do that.
Horror is dawning inside. I should have listened to Gecko. He said don’t let them use you like they’ve used me. I’d thought he was in on things with Tempo, but was he? He’d said his S’hacker status had been betrayed by someone – that he’d been forced to go to the test centre by PareCo. The same test centre as me. Who betrayed him? Then later he was in hiding, but somehow PareCo found him again, and threw him on that transport. The same transport as me. But how did they find him? Did Tempo betray him in both instances, so he could first check me out for her, then later rescue me?
But more: how did I get on that transport? Nanna’s death. But PareCo did that, didn’t they?
But something about that isn’t right, doesn’t feel right, and I struggle to focus on what. When it hits me, I gasp: Crystal said if PareCo did it, they’ve probably faked the records. But they weren’t faked.
According to official PareCo records, Nanna died of Implant acceleration. Would they have had it there, bold, in print on an official report, if they’d done it themselves?
I feel cold, sick, inside. Tempo must have hacked PareCo records and found out I got a university transfer because of Nanna being ill, and the fine print – that a change of circumstances with Nanna would have me going to Inaccessible Island, instead. Crystal told me S’hackers could hack old-style Implants like Nanna would’ve had. And Tempo said she wasn’t going to tell me how Nanna died; not until she knew from Crystal that I suspected it wasn’t natural causes.
Not until she realised she could blame PareCo, and give me another reason to hate them.
But this can’t be true. Why go to all that trouble to have me put on the transport and rescued from it? It would have been much easier to snatch me on the way home from school.
Because she still needs me to go to Inaccessible Island. Only PareCo can get me there. By deciding to leave this place so they’ll take me there, I’ve done exactly what she wanted.
‘Stop!’ I scream, and struggle to pull my memories back from the vortex. ‘It was you Astra was afraid of; it’s you she tried to warn me not to trust.’ Rage fills me, and I fight to pull the memories back to myself, to stop time as it swirls between us.
Tempo turns and smiles, ghostly in the swirl of power that surrounds her. ‘Yes, I suppose that’s true. Your mother was misguided. She thought it wasn’t enough to topple PareCo and for S’hackers to silently take over. But she soon forgot she wanted proper democracy to decide what happens next. As if that could ever do anything but go wrong.’
‘And Nanna? Gecko, too?’ I gasp to even say their names, full of pain at what happened to both of them, and with struggling to hold onto the memory of it.
Memories are drifting into silver beads.
Why did I say their names?
She smiles, and I fight to pull my memories back to myself, unsure even why, but I’m desperate to get them back, to hold onto them. But Tempo is too strong. Another memory whips away in the air, drifts into a bead.
‘But don’t let that trouble you, dear Luna.’ She holds my necklace in her hands. It’s longer now, with eight shiny new memory beads, my S’hacker marks on each one. Then she smiles and pinches the last two off the necklace: the ones with my last memories. The ones of me realising what she’s done.
They float away, to be lost in the void forever.
I fight to hold these last thoughts, to keep them. And she said Astra forgot? No! Some of her memories must have been stolen: Tempo didn’t keep them all on the necklace with the others. Some were pinched off and lost in the void, like mine.
Could I call a silver arrow to find the missing memory beads?
But how would I know to do so?
I focus as much, and as hard, as I can: on silver beads. Floating in the void. Imprinting –
engraving – the image in my mind.
Silver beads. With my S’hacker marks; every swirl, every detail. Floating in the void.
Trust your intuition, Astra said. Every fibre of my being said to stay away from Tempo today, but I didn’t.
I’m filled with sadness. I’m sorry, Mum. I didn’t do what you asked.
Silver beads in the void. Fight.
Beads. In…in…the void? See them.
The void?
Nothing.
For there is a single general space, a single vast immensity which we may freely call Void; in it are innumerable globes like this one on which we live and grow. This space we declare to be infinite, since neither reason, convenience, possibility, sense-perception nor nature assign to it a limit. In it are an infinity of worlds of the same kind as our own.
Giordano Bruno, burned at the stake in 1600
29
Sunlight streams through the window next to me, and I blink, confused. It’s night, isn’t it? I look around. I’m sitting at a table on my own; there are other tables around me. A waitress bustles about with plates of food. I’m in a café, is that it?
But where am I? How did I get here?
People stream past the window, and I stare out. A busy street; could be anywhere in London but I don’t recognise it, and panic is rising inside. This is it: I’ve finally completely lost it.
OK. Breathe deep, calm down. What is the last thing I can remember?
I try to concentrate, but my head feels so wrong. But I was in the void: I’m sure of that at least. I’d been with Gecko. He’d freaked me out, talking about how Danny and Jezzamine died. He’d said he was being held by PareCo and forced to go to Inaccessible Island. And I’d panicked, and run out of his S’hack. Straight through the wall.
And then…? No idea.
I’m not plugged in now; that I’m sure of. There is no double awareness, no body lying in my PIP at home. So no matter how I got here, it’s real.
Check surroundings? Next to me on the table: a menu screen; a half-drunk cup of tea, gone cold. My bag is on an empty chair next to me, Jason’s dog peering out from the top of it. Is Jason here? I search the café: tables about half full, more people coming in the door, no sign of Jason or anyone else I know. My tummy rumbles and a clock on the wall tells me it has gone noon. Lunchtime.
A waitress walks up. ‘Have you decided yet?’ she asks, a wary look on her face.
When in doubt, eat. I scan the menu fast, order sandwiches, more tea. Scrabble through my bag for a credit token, panicking when it isn’t there, but then realise it is already in the table slot. I frown. Did I put it there? She punches my order in, starts to walk away.
‘Wait,’ I say. Swallow. She turns back and I try to think of a way to get information without looking a complete dys, but then give up and just ask. ‘How long have I been sitting here? Did anyone come in with me?’
She keeps her distance. ‘The same as the last time you asked me,’ she says, speaking very slowly. ‘You got here by yourself, just after eleven.’ And she walks away, fast.
I’ve definitely lost it.
Tea comes, hot, and I wrap my shaking hands around the cup. Sandwiches next. I eat, mechanically at first, then with more attention, and somehow start to feel better. The light glares less, my head spins less. Have I been drugged?
Dad. I should call Dad, I realise, finally forming a useful thought. But before I can wonder if my phone is in my bag and, if not, where I can find one, the door opens. A man with a familiar smile, a white coat: the HealthCo doctor from the test centre? Dr Rafferty.
He scans the room until he spots me at the table in the window, and walks over.
‘Luna? There you are,’ he says, pauses by the other chair and I move my bag from it to the table. He sits down.
‘Hi,’ I say. Staring at him with relief: a face I know, even if not top choice.
‘Where’ve you been, Luna? We’ve been looking for you. Everybody has been very worried.’
‘I…I don’t know.’ And now I’m shaking again, wanting to cry, and beyond working out if I should or shouldn’t tell him the truth, but I’m not up to coming up with a useful or believable lie, so it is the only option. ‘I don’t know. One minute I was plugged in at home; it was the evening after Nanna’s funeral.’ Pain twists inside. ‘The next minute… I’m here. I don’t know what’s happened!’ And I can hear the panic in my voice, feel tears wet on my cheeks.
His eyes are concerned. ‘Oh, dear. There, there, Luna.’ He pats my hand awkwardly. ‘Everything will be fine. Don’t worry. We’ll work out what has happened to you. Come on.’
He stands, and I get up, tuck my bag around my arm. He nods reassuringly and we head for the door. The waitress looks relieved.
Outside the café is a van. A door opens from inside; Dr Rafferty has a quick word with someone, then turns back. ‘Come on, Luna. Get in. I think a trip to hospital is in order.’
A stark white room. There is someone outside my door all the time, fuzzy but visible through the obscured glass pane: a guard? Who am I being guarded from? Or maybe he is here to keep an eye on me. I consider trying to leave to see what happens, but then dismiss it. I’m in the right place to figure out what is wrong.
There are scans, tests. Dr Rafferty comes in and out. Then there are drugs, and I drift away, dream of questions. Who am I? Where was I? But I can’t answer them any more than I can when I’m awake.
Later I open my eyes, and Dr Rafferty is in the chair next to me, reading a patient chart. Mine? He looks up. ‘Ah, hello, Luna. Back with us, I see.’
‘So, have you worked out what is wrong with me? Have I lost it?’
He grins. ‘No, you’re completely sane. That’s not it.’
‘Tell me what’s going on. Please.’
‘I will as much as I can. When I found you in the café yesterday, it was actually six days later than you thought it was.’
‘Six days?’
‘Yes. Your transport crashed, and you were seen being pulled away from the wreckage. Then you disappeared.’
‘A transport? What transport?’
‘The one taking you for travel to Inaccessible Island. That was the day after your nanna’s funeral.’
‘I was going there? But I had a transfer to London Uni.’
‘You did, but due to changed circumstances, the transfer was cancelled.’
I stare back at him, confused, then the pound drops. I had the transfer because of Nanna. When she died, circumstances changed: no Nanna, no transfer.
‘The transport crashed, and then I disappeared?’
‘Yes.’
‘People can’t just disappear.’
‘No. But we couldn’t find you. When you used your credit token at that café, that flagged your location on the system, and I came to see if you were all right.’
‘What about my family? When can I see them? They must have been so freaked.’
He shakes his head. ‘They didn’t know. We felt it best to spare them until we knew what happened to you.’
‘But where have I been?’
‘All I can do is speculate. It’s being looked into, but you may have been taken by a group of rebels.’
My jaw literally drops. ‘There are rebels? In London?’
‘Regrettably, there are always the disaffected, the deluded, the mentally deficient. Not just here; in countries all around the world. Marginalised and wanting attention for some lost cause, most usually.’ He shrugs dismissively.
‘But why was I in that café? What’s happened to my memory?’
He shrugs. ‘Perhaps whatever it was they thought they wanted you for didn’t work out? Perhaps you resisted their plans, or they decided you were of no use, wiped your memory and let you go. We know your memories of this time a
re truly gone from the tests we carried out, not just suppressed, but as for why, or how – again, this is just speculation at this point.’
There’s a knock on the door, and an orderly brings a suitcase into the room. I recognise it: it’s mine. The one I used when I went to the test centre. But why is it here?
‘Ah, your things have arrived,’ Dr Rafferty says.
I look at him blankly.
‘The bag you packed to go to Inaccessible Island. It was recovered from the transport after the accident. Perhaps your own clothes will make you feel better? I’ll leave you a moment; get dressed. Soon it will be time to go.’
‘Am I going home now?’
‘I’m afraid not. You have to catch up to your cohort at Inaccessible Island. They’ll be ahead of you in training now.’ He stands, walks to the door. ‘Get ready and I’ll be back in twenty minutes.’
He leaves and the door swings shut.
Well. I wheel my suitcase across the room, put it on the bed. At least I can get out of this terribly attractive hospital gown. But I feel like I’m trespassing on my own life. Did I pack this bag? I don’t remember, and suddenly am desperate to go through all my stuff, to see if it helps things come back.
Inside are neatly folded clothes, neater than I’d do. Maybe Sally packed it for me, though it isn’t like me to let her do that. ANDs are tucked in corners, and I remember I’d started using them to plug in, that Gecko had told me about them.
Gecko said he was being taken to Inaccessible Island, too. Will he be there? Is he crazy, or isn’t he? If he’s there, then maybe he isn’t. Maybe he was right about PareCo causing Jezzamine and Danny’s deaths. Spine spiders walk up my backbone: he warned me not to go to the PareCo Think Tank.
But it’s not like I have a choice.
Bemused, I get dressed, then go through my handbag also. No phone, but whether I didn’t take it, or it went missing either when I did or later, here at the hospital, I have no way of knowing. And why’ve I got Jason’s toy dog with me? Generally called Mr Dog; full name Mr Dodgy D Dog. I hold him in my hands.
