by Tim Scott
And the three of us walked through the evening night air, feeling properly alive.
chapter
ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR
Gabe made coffee, and I sat on the sofa. Nena was leaning on me, half asleep.
“So, you should just be in time,” said Gabe.
“In time for what?” There was a playfulness in his voice.
“The party,” Gabe replied. “You have two tickets.”
“I think we might give it a miss. We’re pretty tired.”
“Hold on. What kind of attitude is that? And you haven’t even seen what I have for Nena yet.”
“What is it?” she said, opening her eyes sleepily.
Gabe held up a white ballgown he’d had behind his back. It rustled and cracked with chiffon. “It’s Marcy’s. I’m guessing you’re the same size, and she’d want you to have it. This is a special day.”
“Gabe!” I said.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” said Nena, standing up.
“And since you’ve ruined all my other suits, you might as well ruin my tuxedo as well,” he said, and held that up with his other hand.
“It’s so beautiful,” said Nena, holding the dress up to herself. “Why don’t we go? Have you really got tickets?”
“Yeah,” I said, finding the envelope from among the things on the table. “VIP tickets. Gabe, I’ve ruined your apartment, most of your clothes, and very nearly your life. And still you offer me more stuff?”
“That’s what friends are for, Huck. Now, get this girl to the party.”
chapter
ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE
Nena looked stunning.
Her hair hung down in straggling curls and the dress rustled as we walked through the evening under the rafts of stars. Above us, another massive Health and Safety sign declared: “Don’t go into a room and then forget what it was you went there for. What’s the point of that?”
The sidewalk was thick with people and, as we got closer, I held her around the waist as this great swarm of humanity swept us on. It seemed like the whole city was here. A group of men with furiously large blond wigs a little to our right were carrying cans of drink and cheering randomly at pretty much everything they saw.
“Brilliant lamppost! Just brilliant!” cried one. And they all cheered. “That metally thing there? Awesome!” cried another. And they all cheered again.
We hustled our way left, weaving our way past rosy faces until we could see the security cordon thrown up amid a festival of flags and banners and streamers.
Around us, women in lavish dresses with their hair swept up in beehive hairstyles, and men in sharp suits and bow ties that refused to sit flat, held each other arm-in-arm. We waited in line for the VIP area. The security personnel were all dressed in black-and-white uniforms, looking like large, overofficious badgers.
They were plugging into everyone’s feed, but they were only checking their moods with a Handheld Feed Reader. A couple in front of us both had pretty somber moods, and they were both guided to a first-aid tent on our right.
We reached the barrier.
The woman was young and had an easygoing air about her. She inserted my tickets into a machine. It bathed them in red light and then played a happy little chord. She waved a jack plug at me.
“Just need to check your mood, sir.” I twisted my head so she could plug in. After a moment, I heard a piece of Handel’s Messiah. “That’s great,” she said, and then plugged into the feed on Nena’s neck. Her mood translated as a massively upbeat big-band number.
“Glad you’re both in such good moods this evening. One of the happiest couples we’ve had. I’m sure you’ll have an awesome time. Enjoy the party. I hear the Lodge of Maculfry is very cool. It’s a full hoot tonight.”
“Thank you,” I said as we walked through the cordon and into a long snaking tunnel of white canvas that opened out onto an area that had been decorated with twirls of ivy, palm trees in pots, burning torches and wild streamers, and enough party lights to rival the stars. Turf had been rolled out onto the road, a wooden floor had been laid, and there were tables piled high with food and a full orchestra playing sweeping music.
Everywhere waiters with drinks trays were swanning effortlessly about, among the women in party dresses and the men in smart suits, buzzing around tables stacked with champagne glasses.
“This is so perfect,” said Nena, holding onto me.
“Shadows and magic.”
“And music and dancing. And champagne.”
And as we stepped together out into this unreal landscape, the arcing explosion of fireworks cast a melting flame across the sky, leaving it thick with falling sparks and plumes of smoke.
chapter
ONE HUNDRED AND SIX
Nena stood by the edge of a fountain to watch the fireworks explode above in rafts of silver trails as I wove my way over to one of the tables laid out with bottles of champagne.
A man sat on a step near the table. His jacket was torn and rolled in dust, and his hair poked up in wild, uncared-for peaks.
“He didn’t get interrupted. He just got stuck,” he said, looking at his reflection in a bottle of champagne and then up at me. “Coleridge. He got stuck. He claimed that the poem Kubla Khan came to him in an opium-induced dream, and that he never finished it because he was interrupted by a person from the village of Porlock who came around for tea.”
“Right.”
“But really he just got stuck. What do you think he meant by ‘floating hair’?”
“Who?”
“Coleridge.”
“I’ve no idea. You okay?” I poured some champagne into a couple of glasses.
“I have a fever, but it’s nothing. Can I ask you something? Have you ever done anything stupid?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said.
“Then you’re lucky.”
“Lucky? What do you mean?”
“I never did. I was always the good kid. Always doing the right thing.”
“Well, you didn’t miss out on anything, believe me. Nice meeting you. Enjoy the party.”
But the man grabbed my jacket as I tried to pass so that I spilled a little of the champagne.
“You don’t understand,” he said, looking into my eyes. “All those years at Philadelphia High, at Harvard, at the Pentagon, I did the sensible thing—because I was responsible.”
“All right. Take it easy.”
“And now I’m going to do something stupid.”
“Fine. You do it.”
“Yeah, I’m going to do it.” He let go of my jacket and walked off uncertainly. I watched him go and found that a waiter was already topping off the glasses.
“Allow me, sir.”
“Champagne!” I said to Nena as I returned under an umbrella of sparks scattering across the sky.
“I love champagne. We should toast.”
“Sure, what to?”
“To forgotten friends,” she said.
“Good choice. To forgotten friends.”
chapter
ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN
Awesome,” said the mayor, stepping onto the stage, as the sky dripped golden trails.
I held Nena close.
“Thank you! Just to let you know, there has been some trouble over at city hall, but it’s nothing to worry about. But we are looking for someone. And that’s anyone who is not in a good mood! Seriously, if anyone is feeling unwell, or they have a dip in their mood, we do have first-aid tents around the perimeter, all equipped with friendly Labrador puppies that you can stroke. But now we come to the moment for blessing the wall. We are very honored to have the Lodge of Maculfry with us today!”
Lights flooded the stage to reveal a mass of people dressed in black robes, each wearing a pointy black hat that must have been three feet high.
“This is Maculfry Hoot number 364. It is an authorized hoot under the laws of hooting. Silence for the hoot!” called a man. He wore a purple hat adorned with lights that flashed in time to hi
s words.
The crowd noise dropped.
The beat of a single large drum. And all the people with the hats began swaying slightly.
“Mac-ul-fry! Mac-ul-fry!” shouted the man at the front. “Mac-ullllll-freeeeee! Hoot!”
“Hooooooooot!” they answered, drawing out the word as small white lights blazed from their hats.
Then silence.
After a while a single man in the crowd jumped and shouted: “hoot!”
Then a few more began randomly jumping in the air and also crying “hoot.” The lights on their hats flashed each time they jumped, so you could pick out who it was.
This went on for around five minutes.
And then all the people on the stage leaped into the air and simultaneously shouted: “Hoot!”
And then knelt.
“May this wall be blessed with all good things,” said the man at the front with the purple lights flashing on his hat. “May all those it stops getting in and out be blessed with happiness.” He motioned them to all stand up, and they all shook each other’s hands. Then he turned to the crowd again. “And that concludes this hoot.”
Cheers from the crowd and a certain amount of clapping. “You might like to know we shall be hooting again in two weeks time at the opening of Congress,” he said.
The orchestra began to play again.
“Well, that was relatively insane,” I said.
“Yeah, but kind of cute as well. Shall we dance?” Nena said.
“Yeah.”
“New Seattle Health and Safety!” sang the choir on the stage. “Stay safe! Watch out! Stay safe! Watch out! Stay safe! Watch out for that—”
“Arrrrrrrrrr!” sang a woman in a warbling opera singer’s soprano.
“Stay safe for Mother New Seattle!” they sang on chirpily to the strains of the orchestra. “Stay safe for Mother New Seattle! Do not die for no reason! Unless it’s absolutely unavoidable!”
And as we danced to these extraordinary lyrics, in the middle of the square amid a sprinkling of other couples under the shadow of the main gate as rafts of fireworks began to explode over us again, I realized that the slogan didn’t bother me anymore. Sometimes people do die for no reason. And it’s just the way the world is.
And then we were taken up by the atmosphere as we glided amid the fairy lights, getting lost in the music and the magic of it all.
And there was nothing else that mattered.
chapter
ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHT
In Porlock, there was still no sign of Mendes, and nearly all of the other operatives had gone home now, their eyes red with tiredness.
But Kahill stayed.
The latest printout from the computer showed a major DST alert from near the city wall main gate.
Perhaps the machine was not working entirely accurately, but the alert was massive—the largest he’d ever seen.
He tried to contact the agents again, but the communications system was down now.
It insisted he was selling towels.
He walked up the fire escape steps onto the roof and was momentarily surprised to find that it was dark. When he reached the parapet, he saw the blaze of lights and realized it was the night of the fireworks display.
“If you do this, then we’re finished, and Mendes will kill me,” he said, staring out. “Whoever you are, don’t do this thing.”
chapter
ONE HUNDRED AND NINE
The orchestra came to the end of the piece as another volley of fireworks drenched the sky in streams of silver.
We held each other, oblivious that the music was gone, still cocooned in a haze of well-being. Eventually, Nena pulled away and grabbed another couple of glasses of champagne and some canapés from a waiter and handed them to me as the lights dimmed and the stage was flooded with red smoke.
“Is this processed cheese?” I said as I tried one of the canapés.
“Could be.”
“One of the fridges had some today. It was obviously my destiny to try some.”
“You believe in destiny?”
There was a wild unexpected crack, and a deep booming shudder. The surrounding buildings felt like they all shuffled a bit to the left.
“Just when it comes to processed cheese,” I said uncertainly.
A sweeping circle of huge birds, disturbed by the sound, came flying across the sky in a loop.
A flurry of fireworks exploded in a mass of abrupt sparks. And the letters on the city gate blazed into light. “Good night! Stay safe! Do not die for no reason! What’s the point? Right?”
Then the fairy lights around the square blinked.
Darkness.
Someone screamed uncertainly.
And the wall shivered.
From the parapet, a butterfly of masonry fell in a shadowy arc, dropping in slow motion before exploding on the ground.
“The end of the world is nigh!” called a voice in the silence.
And then the massive bulk of the wall fell, leaning in the darkness until there was a heartrending implosion that rumbled on and on, spilling the heavy scent of lavender and ginseng out among the clouds of choking dust.
And as the sound echoed away, the void was filled with screams, and cries, and moans of people in agony.
Sparks belted up from frayed electrical cables, and a broken water main scudded thick trunks of water toward us like runaway fountains. More waves of choking dust fell in a huge engulfing cloud, and mad, bleating sirens began to wail.
Chaos gathered momentum in the darkness amid the wall of heart-agonizing moans of people crushed and dying. And I felt the world gathering itself up ready to brace against the terror and fear that had already been released.
I scrambled through the dark.
“Nena,” I called. “Nena!”
The crowd broke into a wave, and came hurtling over the square as one like a swirling beast, trampling everything.
“Huck,” I heard her call somewhere, and her voice was desperate.
A mass of bodies. Eddying pools of people riven with panic, churning through the square like a tsunami of fear.
“Huck,” she called. And as I crawled toward her voice I saw her lying on the floor, in the moment before another wave of people swamped over the two of us. There was a massive blow to my ribs. And then nothing.
Silence.
Utter silence.
I picked myself slowly off the ground. “Nena!” I called.
“Huck,” she cried. I staggered to where she lay, aware that the square was deserted. “Are you all right?”
“My ribs ache. What’s happened? Where is everyone?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter,” I said, and lifted her into my arms. “You’re going to be all right. We’ll find someone.”
“Do you think we’re dead?” she said.
“We’re certainly…alone.”
“No, you’re not alone,” said a voice. “And you’re not dead. We pulled you out. We felt that it was not your time.” It was a man dressed in black standing a few feet away. Through the dark, I could just make out that he was wearing sunglasses.
“Come, you’ll both be safe now. We don’t have champagne here, but we do have pizza.”
EPILOGUE
FIVE MONTHS LATER
We looked out across the city from the hill in the park. A tree grew there, its branches forking shadows onto the grass, and its leaves spraying a cloud of maple green above our heads. Down below, people walked dogs and fretted over young toddlers who were running slightly faster than they had the capability to control.
It had been a close-run thing for the park, teetering on the edge of oblivion as it slowly decayed into another patch of wasteland, but a group of citizens had come together and resolved to repair the paths, plant the beds, and sweep away the litter that had accumulated over too many years.
We were sprawled out on a rug after a picnic, feeling the breeze on our faces. And listening to the swifts wheeling overhead with their soft scr
eeches.
“I’ve had to wait too long to meet Nena. And is this a Fiorentina without the egg?” said Marcy, waving a piece of pizza.
“Yeah, it’s a new thing we discovered.”
“So how did you manage to end up in Mexico with the fridges?”
“We had some help,” I said.
“There’s something you’re not telling us.”
“Yeah, but it involves the Heisenberg uncertainty principle.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
There was an open feel about this city now that I really liked. Even the mustaches on the cops seem less obtrusive. “I made a promise to keep it quiet to someone with sunglasses. I like this city now.”
“It’s changed somehow,” said Marcy. “The ravens have all gone, too. You notice that?”
I lay with my back on the grass of a hill and stared up at the clouds as Nena rolled on top of me.
“So, we are home now?” she said, and I caught the expression in her eyes.
“Yeah,” I said, “we’re home.” Her face smiled against the gently drifting clouds.
Many people had died when the wall came down, crushed in the scrum of the panicking crowd. It had brought out a wave of national sympathy, and an outpouring of public grief that seemed to have helped heal the city itself. The wall had been removed, and the scar planted with a park. So now the city was encircled in a ring of green.
The mayor was among those who had died.
I looked at Nena and realized how good it felt to lie here with her so close.
“We’re definitely home,” I said, aware of ground under my back as her weight lay on top of me.
“Good,” she said. “I’ve never had a home before. I’m definitely having more champagne then.” And she rolled away.
And the four of us spent the afternoon there, basking in the pleasure of one another’s company, drinking and watching the sun float down into the bay, making the sky ripple through a blush of colors.
And then, toward dusk, we packed up the picnic and prepared to wander back down the hill in the warm evening air. But just for a moment we all stood at the top of the hill under that big maple tree, looking out across the city, and I put my arms around Nena. Then Gabe’s gentle voice carried on the breeze. And after a moment I realized he was reciting the speech that was supposed to have been made by Chief Seattle.
