by Matt Doyle
“With me,” I reply, “she said she didn’t know how long she spent in each place. Time seemed to lose meaning for her. I don’t know, maybe she figured it all out before she came to you, or maybe it’s just a way of trying to give the events some order in her head. It was probably a similar time frame each time, but I doubt it was six months. Different things she described made me think that she may have visited a couple of the Colonies more than once, just using different ports.”
“Did she tell you that she thought of every Colony as a second chance?”
“Yeah. The travelling was like hitting a reset switch for her. The problem was that Meera knew things needed to change, but she’d kinda trapped herself in the cycle. Change was scary for her. I can’t really blame her for feeling like, I mean, look at the major changes that she’d already gone through. The decisions that she made while staying in each Colony were part of that. If she did the same stuff over and over again, she’d go through the same experiences over and over again. If that meant hurting herself each time, that was fine with her because familiarity was easier to face. I guess she thought that things could never get worst that way, just remain constant.”
“I never knew that. I thought she’d just ended up in a situation that lent itself to repetition.”
“She did, but it was by design.”
“This is … what she told you was so different to what she told me. In places anyway.”
“That’s not her fault, Hong Chan. She’s sick, and this is just her way of coping. That said, you can see the repeated cycles even in what happened with you. She saw you on TV, found you, told you her story. With me, she saw me on TV, saw me in town, followed me. With the street gangs, she’d see them around town, follow them, and talk to them. It’s all the same when you break it down. Did she ever tell you that finding you was fate?”
Hong Chan thinks about it for a moment, his face slowly dropping as he remembers. “Yeah, she did. While we were training for the qualifiers.”
“Me too. I’d guess that she said something similar to everyone that she’s fallen in with. Don’t look so sad about that though, it was still heartfelt when she said it, you just weren’t the first.”
“I’m beginning to realise how out of my depth I am with her …”
“We realised that too. We’d intended to head to Kieriaki two weeks after refuelling, but Meera changed that. She’d ask me about my side of what happened on The Halo almost every day. It was cathartic for both of us, don’t get me wrong, but I was worried that it was turning into a way to keep doing what she was doing, ya know? It was like she was reliving the traumatic stuff on a daily basis and building a new cycle around doing it. Looking back on it now, it could just have been her way on trying to unravel things in her head, but I can’t be sure of that.
“Once it became clear how little we’d be able to do for her, we started looking for professional help for her. What she really needed was stability, so a place which provided accommodation was ideal, but most of the places we found were out of our price range. Then we found Dr Russen. As I’m sure you know, he specialises in the effects of extreme trauma. To be honest, he genuinely seemed pretty nice when we spoke to him, but that all changed when we landed. The moment he saw the Barcode Tattoos on our hands, that was it. Turns out Offland money isn’t worth shit compared to Colonist money.”
“I can’t believe that. In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen Henry do anything like that.”
“You don’t have one of these,” I growl, waving my hand at him. “Bigots ain’t exactly known for being bigoted to their own kind Hong Chan.”
“But …”
“Whatever,” I say, cutting him off. “The point is, after what that bastard did, Meera was mortified. Going into this was more change for her and it took a lot to psych herself up for it. I even agreed to stay as long as needed to help her settle in. To have it all snatched away like that … she couldn’t understand why it had happened. I had to explain about how the Travellers Act of 2375 meant we were treated like unwelcome Gypsies wherever we went. I told her that the Barcode on her hand was a way to let people know where we’re from and to help the local authorities monitor us in case we cause trouble. The saddest thing was when she asked if we could remove the tattoo and try again and I had to explain that no one would. Even now, it’s still there, isn’t it? They just grafted skin over the top, didn’t they?”
“Yeah,” he replies. “It seems a little thin though, you can kinda still see the tattoo if you look closely.”
“That’s so it can still be scanned if needed. If she breaks the law, there’s the chance that her adoption will be revoked and you’ll be forced to kick her out.”
“What? That wasn’t in the paperwork.”
“It doesn’t need to be. Paragraph 12(iii) TA2375. I bet there’s a lot of stuff in there that you don’t know about. Not even one in a thousand Colonists view my people as anything other than scum thanks to that thing. People see us coming, their hands go to their wallets and phones, they tense up ready to fight, they start shouting, all that shit. I bet you’ve even done it.”
I pause, daring him to deny it and he remains silent. “Do you want to know the best bit?” I sneer. “My people come from all over. We’ve been born in every corner of known space. Thanks to the Travellers Act, that little fact’s used to prevent us from being classed as one race, which means we can’t even cry racism if someone treats us like crap because of where we’re from.” I hold my hand up again. “The only reason I don’t hide this thing is because I refuse to let other people’s ignorance dictate what level of life I’m allowed. I’m proud of who I am, and I’m proud of my people.”
I pause to drain my glass and relax back into the chair again. “After everything she’d been through, Meera didn’t have my resolve. Once she realised why people treated her the way they did, she just didn’t want her heritage any more, and that helped add confusion to whether living on The Halo was good or bad. We tried to help her, we really did, but we were losing the battle a little more every day after that. She was just so confused about everything. Mostly, she had trouble deciding whether I was a good guy or bad guy in everything that had happened.”
“An Angel or a Demon. That’s how Meera described you to me. She wanted to figure out which you were.”
I nod. “She wanted to assign blame. That was a throwback to her time on the streets I think. The gangs all had people they could blame for where they were and, whether they were right or not, she took that to heart. The danger was that if she viewed me as bad then she’d rebel against what little progress she’d made and if she viewed me as good then she’d blame herself. She couldn’t deal with hearsay as a concept so the idea that Faye Simmons was to blame didn’t sit well with her either.”
A knock at the door interrupts us and I look over to see Maria step carefully in with another jug of water. “Sorry,” she says. “Meera was getting worried about how long you guys were taking. I thought you’d probably need another drink by now.”
“Thank you,” says Hong Chan, taking the jug.
“Tell her not to worry,” I say. “We’ll be done soon. I’m just getting to Quadro.”
Maria nods sadly. “Try not to get too …”
“I won’t,” I interject. “I’ll be fine.”
“OK,” she replies, her eyes betraying her concern. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” And with that she exits the room and leaves us alone again. I get up and walk over to Hong Chan, take the fresh jug and pour another glass before setting it back down on the bedside table. It’s only a short walk across the room and back but it’s enough to help me head off any prosthetic issues before they pop up. Too much sitting still can cause a lot of stiffness. At the same time though, too much activity increases wear and tear which sets off a whole load of other issues.
“So.” I sit back down again and give my leg a few quick stretches. “After visiting that bastard Russen, Meera’s behaviour b
ecame erratic. She’d mostly been shifting between needing to talk and getting teary and wanting to lock herself away, but after the trip to Earth she started developing violent outbursts too. Most times she’d take herself to her room if she felt like that. You could hear her screaming or pounding the walls in frustration. Eventually though, she started hurting herself. Sometimes she’d stop pounding with her fists and use her head instead, other times she’d scratch herself up or cut. You noticed the scars on her arms, right?”
“When I asked her about them, she said she couldn’t remember how she got them. I presumed it was as a result of living rough.”
“Self harm never crossed your mind?”
“Initially, but she didn’t show any signs of it when she was with me. I thought that if she was doing that, it would continue regardless of where she was.”
“Naivety suites you Hong Chan. You’re lucky though. The amount of times we found Meera doing it and screaming that everything that had happened was her fault …” I wipe my face with my hand and sigh. “You could tell that she didn’t really believe it, I think she just wanted to convince herself so that she could move on.”
“So how long did that go on for?”
“A couple of months. It was all part of the cyclical behaviour for her. She’d want to talk things through, maybe even seeming to make some progress and gain some clarity or, I don’t know, an identity maybe? Then it was back to shutting down, the hurting and the screaming. Finally, we began to see the side of her that, for better or for worst, had found a way to survive and give her some consistency. What she’d been doing up until that point was bad. It was hard to watch, hard to deal with, but it was all inward for her. It didn’t directly target Maria or myself. You remember what I said before about her outstaying her welcome everywhere and finding consistency in having to start over again?” He nods, choosing to listen quietly. “That way of thinking had buried itself deep inside her. It was destructive and she knew it. Up until Russen, Meera had fought it with us. She believed that we could help her and didn’t want to ruin that chance for herself. After he turned her away, it’s like she slowly gave up. The way he treated her gave that side of her power, or at the very least a justification to continue existing.
“Meera started doing things to make us turn on her. She’d say things that she knew would hurt us, or try to play us off against each other. I even caught her stealing a couple of times. The thing is, when she lived on the streets she’d target a lot of different people, and not one of them knew why she was the way she was. With only two of us, the tricks were obvious. We could combat it, cut her slack when needed, things like that. All of which frustrated her. Meera was ready to run, but needed someone to force her to do it. We had no intention of being those people.”
“She sounds like a completely different person,” Hong Chan says, his head resting against his hand. If it weren’t for the weariness in his eyes, I’d think he was bored rather than tired.
“She may as well have been,” I reply. “That side of her was manipulative, and far more controlled than the one that we saw the rest of the time. Out among the stars it was easier to deal with, Maria and I are stronger than a few harsh words, but it was harder when it came out during dockings. She’d steal, try to start fights, basically do anything she could to get herself in trouble. We tried to help her understand that she was hurting herself more by doing that than if she kept working through things. We wanted her to see that abandonment wasn’t the only way to live but it was hard for her. When she was calm, she’d apologise and tell us that she knew we were right, but her head wouldn’t let her accept it because it meant throwing out the one constant she’d had for the last few years. Meera was a fighter though, she did her best, I know that, it’s just that the time she spent with us wasn’t enough to overwrite all the years of hurt.”
I steel myself against what’s coming next and take a deep breath. “In the end,” I say, “she got what she wanted. We’d docked at Quadro and, during the supply run, Meera pushed things too far. I don’t know if it was being back where we picked her up or if she’d just given up trying, but something brought on one of darker moods and …” I trail off, my head dropping as I begin to sob.
“Hey,” Hong Chan says softly, getting to his feet.
“No,” I snap, wiping my eyes and holding my hand out to stop him coming closer. Maria is the only person I allow to comfort me like that. I swallow hard. “Most of the time, I try to keep a low profile, especially in certain areas. Quadro is very pro space exploration so my views about it being a fairly worthless venture for how little distance we’ve covered aren’t popular there. I’d explained that to Meera before and in other places she’d been careful not to give us away, but she was different that day. She’d been quiet throughout the trip, but once we reached the city centre she suddenly found her voice. She stopped, right in the middle of the crowd. I almost walked off without her, but Maria tugged me back. When I turned around to see where Meera was, she just stood her ground, this big grin on her face. I asked if she was OK and she just lifted her arm straight out, pointed her finger right at me and yelled my name. Before we could stop her, she started reeling off quotes from my interviews and …”
I pause, my eyes glazing over. This time, Hong Chan remains seated, waiting patiently for me to continue. “Everything became a blur,” I say, finally. “A crowd started gathering. She pointed out Maria. There was a lot of shouting. And a gun. I remember punching one guy and dragging Maria through the rest while Meera followed, shouting and screaming, trying to rally the mob again. We managed to move fast enough to get to a through road, but Meera was still right there with us, calling out to anyone who’d listen. Instinct kicked in, and I just reacted. I threw her to the ground and climbed on top. I wanted to calm her down, to say something, anything, but something in her eyes stopped me. She looked calm. Happy. I was getting to my feet again when about thirty of the rougher looking people from the original mob came around the corner like something out of a fucking horror film. I just grabbed Maria and ran, leaving Meera behind.”
I start to cry again as I ask, “What else could I have done? I’ve tried so many times to think of something I could have done differently but I couldn’t protect them both.”
“The riot,” Hong Chan whispers, realisation dawning on his face. “That was you?”
I nod. “We tried to go back the next day, but the ships registration had been blocked. ‘No Offlander was allowed to dock while it was still going on’ they said. We managed to pick up a few news transmissions while we were in orbit, but the only report of what had happened just said that the girl believed to have started the trouble had run off and her whereabouts were unknown. By the time things had calmed down, no one even remembered me being there. Me, Maria, Meera and now you. Only four people know what happened that day. I’d prefer if it stayed that way.”
“Like I said,” he replies calmly, “I don’t keep up with much outside CL-Five. I’ve never seen the point in getting involved with another Colony’s business, and I don’t intend to start now.”
“Thank you,” I say, looking up. He waves his hand, letting me know that he doesn’t need my thanks. “We docked at an Offland Supply Point about a month later. I tried to have her Barcode traced but she was still shown as ‘whereabouts unknown.’ She probably stowed away on a ship during the trouble and ended up somewhere else. If you found her two years ago, then Cothurn-Ragna could easily have been her next stop. That would mean that she blocked everything out pretty quickly though.”
We sit in silence for a moment, both processing the story, albeit in different ways. I down my drink. “So. The question is, as her legal guardian, how much of what I’ve told you do you think she needs to hear. Do I try to talk her down based on her current memories or do I fill in the gaps?”
Hong Chan stands up and rubs his eyes. “The stuff that happened on Quadro. Did it change how you felt about Meera?”
“No,” I reply without hesitation. �
�I wouldn’t have tried to trace her if it had, or agreed to come here tonight. Meera was a sweet kid, I know that. The side of her that came out back then … I blame society for that, not her.”
Hong Chan nods. “All of it,” he says, offering his hand to help me up. “Tell her all of it.”
I wave him down and push myself to my feet with a grunt.
Talking everything through twice in one night. It’ll be just like old times again.
JOHN FORRESTER - 20:47
Lana really doesn’t look happy about the knock at the door. That’s pretty silly really given that I’ve already told her nothing bad’s gonna happen. Ah well.
I pull the door open to find Carnival chugging one of the beer bottles, her snout and ears hanging haphazardly out from under her hood. Once she notices that I’ve opened the door, she stops long enough to return my grin and shake the bottles in her other hand at me, causing them to clink together loudly. I count four of them in the one hand, plus the one she’s drinking. The question is, did she leave the sixth one behind or has she already finished it? It’s a good job she doesn’t get drunk really. Not real drunk anyway. Pretend drunk she can do.
I rest my elbow against the door frame so that my head can loll against my fist while my other hand goes to my waist, adding to the over-exaggerated mock sternness in my face. “Now, I really must speak to that other Wick of ours. He’s clearly shirking on his fridge protection responsibilities.”
Carnival responds by waving the beer bottles at the outside of the hotel room and making a noise that sounds suspiciously like a dismissive ‘Pah.”
I roll my eyes with a light chuckle, then sweep my leg around in a smooth turn, waving my free arm in towards the room as I say, “Well then, you best come in before someone sees you.”
Carnival steps into the room, pressing an unopened bottle into my outstretched hand as she passes, then strides forward a couple of steps and vaults the sofa, landing in a sitting position opposite Lana, her hood dropping in the process. As her hand darts forward, Lana recoils with a squeal, hiding her face behind her arms in some sort of block-flail-combo. When nothing happens, she slowly peers out from behind her forearm to find Carnival holding out another beer bottle and giving her a quizzical look. When she doesn’t immediately move to take it, Carnival gives it a quick shake to reiterate the point. Finally, Lana lowers her guard, leans forward and takes the bottle on offer. Carnival responds by looking back to me and making a confused grunt.
