He seems so vulnerable up there, somehow more naked than he seems after a time skip, even though he’s wearing jeans. I can see the muscles in his back stretch with each hold.
Soon Mason’s so far up that my world begins to tilt. I push it away – this isn’t about me. Just keep willing him on. Be strong.
Any slip would mean a hard fall.
Mason’s nearing the top of the wall when I sense a change about him. His muscles don’t seem quite so taut. He has victory in sight.
‘Nearly there!’ My shout of nervous support.
Mason doesn’t respond; he’s in the zone. He pulls out from the wall and peers down as if trying to work out what I said.
Keep going, I call in my mind.
He’s reaching for the next handhold when one arm drops and he loses his grip.
His leg swings out, kicking, trying to regain their footholds. But there’s nothing to hold him as gravity pulls him down.
Echo gasps as Mason falls. So fast …
An empty pair of jeans lands, flap, on the floor.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
WE STAND IN stunned silence, staring at the limp pair of jeans on the ground. This can’t be happening.
‘How long?’ someone asks. And then, ‘How long do we have?’ It’s Boc, yelling at me, because I’m the one who knows, right? I’m the one who’s been training the most with Mason, the one who knows how long he’ll be able to stay away.
‘We have time,’ I gasp. It’s hard to get the words out. Already the seconds are slipping so fast. ‘He’s stayed away an exact hour.’ I suck in a breath. ‘But we can’t count on that. The panic of falling might pull him back.’
‘There’s a crash mat in the beginners room,’ breathes Amon.
We all bolt for the door. I’m almost through, close behind Boc, when I stop and turn. What if Mason returns before we drag the mat in?
‘It’s okay.’ Echo calls as she rushes past. ‘Stay here. Hold the door open when we come back.’
It’s not long before I hear shuffling and grunts from the other side of the door. I’m ready with the chip, swiping and keeping the door open while they manoeuvre the mat through, panting and calling instructions to each other.
Once it’s through I grab a corner and pull, grunting with the others as we fight to drag it across the floor. The thickness of it makes it heavy and so damn awkward. But that’s exactly what we need, that padding to cushion his fall.
Finally, it’s in place. Ready to catch a body that’s about to fall from thin air. Please let it be enough. Boc grabs a corner and shifts it slightly, making sure it’s in position.
‘It’ll be okay,’ I say. ‘He’ll be okay.’ I’m staring at Boc as I speak although I think I’m saying the words more to myself.
Time slips slowly past. Without really discussing it we’ve all drifted to one of the corners of the mat, forming a protective rectangle. Amon pulls a compad out and swipes a couple of times, and I catch a glimpse of the emergency assistance request on the screen. Ready to use with a single press of his fingertip.
When he glances up some sort of look passes between him and Boc.
‘Not yet,’ says Boc. ‘Only if we need it.’
‘I know.’
With each second of empty time that we have to wait, my eyes narrow at Boc. This is his fault. He was the one who pushed Mason to climb without a harness. It’s his fault again, just like with Amon.
In my next blink, a figure appears in thin air, facing the wall and dropping only a couple of metres before landing with a pfff on the mattress.
He wobbles a bit on the yielding surface of the mattress, but amazingly he even manages to stay standing. No broken bones, no exploding flesh, just Mason’s naked back and bare butt.
We all stare, relieved, sure, but also totally shocked. Mason straightens slowly, and turns. He’s breathing hard, his skin flushed. He blinks as if regaining a sense of location in the world and Boc wordlessly chucks him a pair of jeans.
‘Are … are you okay?’ Echo asks.
Another moment of silence, before Mason breaks into a grin. ‘Fine.’ I don’t think he believes it either. He swivels to peer up the high wall, his mouth dropping open.
‘You almost didn’t need a mat,’ Amon says, squinting up as well.
‘Not almost,’ blurts Boc. ‘He didn’t need it.’
‘Time skipping must have broken the momentum.’ Mason turns back from the wall and lifts one eyebrow. ‘When you return, see, you’re stationary. So it’s like …’ He lifts an arm. ‘How high was I when I came back?’
‘About there.’ Echo points. ‘That blue handgrip on the wall. No higher than that.’
‘Okay. So it was like I’d jumped from that height, not from the top of the wall.’
We all go silent, thinking it through, shifting slowly from fear to amazed disbelief.
‘So … we could base-jump off almost anything,’ Boc whispers. ‘And survive?’
‘Yeah, but …’ Mason lifts a shoulder. ‘You have to be certain you can drop away instantly, and under pressure. If you took too long, you’d still –’
‘Freaking brilliant.’ Already Boc’s striding towards the wall. ‘I could climb the West Gate … jump into the bay. Or Southern Cross Tower …’
‘Mate …’ It’s Amon who steps forward. ‘Let’s not get carried away. Why don’t we practise a bit first, yeah?’ He turns to Mason. ‘We could time him, couldn’t we? Check he can do it fast enough.’
‘Sure,’ says Mason, but his tone drops as he says it. He’s clearly being ignored.
Already Boc’s reaching for the first handhold, barely looking, as if he automatically knows where it is. He steps up from the floor, stretching for the next grip, progressing smoothly and easily.
Echo shakes her head and grabs a corner of the crash mat so I take her lead, dragging it sideways so that it’s directly beneath Boc. We hover at each of the corners again. That’s about all we can do.
Soon he’s nearing the top, no pauses, no hesitation. Each movement is so swift, so agile, that he reminds me of a spider on a wall. He makes it all the way up and lifts himself onto the top ledge of the wall, turning to face outwards like a diver on the high board.
I think my heart stops beating as I watch. He doesn’t fumble off the ledge, he actually jumps, his arms lifting as if willing his body even higher, gaining height in a small curve. There’s a split second when he slows in mid-air at the top of the curve, a single moment to prepare.
To hold his breath and make a wish …
Then his weight is caught by gravity and he plummets, a falling meteor.
Shorts and a T-shirt flap onto the crash mat.
We’re shifting nervously, wondering how long we have to wait, when Boc’s shape forms about three metres above us. The mat goes pfft – louder than it did with Mason. Boc lands on his feet, taking the rest of the weight on his hands, a sprinter on the starting blocks.
‘Freeeeaking excellent.’ Already Boc’s pacing to the end of the mat, then back to grab his clothes. ‘We have to try the Telstra Tower next.’
My eyes track along the handholds to the top of the wall, three storeys of vertigo. I’ll time skip in front of a freight train again if I have to, jump in front of a batch of smartcars. But this? No way, nuh-uh, never.
With base jumping, Boc has me beat.
I still go to orientation day at Karoly High with the woman’s chip sewn into the lining of my uniform’s cuff. It’s strange and surreal, and so much the same. Everyone’s in the same spotless uniforms that are slightly too big. It’s like they’ve been trapped in time while I’ve been travelling the universe.
My head is so full of preparations for the application hearing that I don’t bother to pay attention. After all, I’ve heard it all before. But I can’t let myself hope too much. If anything goes wrong with the application, I don’t want to lose my place here. Kessa and I stick together through the pep talks and study lectures, our shoulders as good as glued. At lea
st this time round, time skipping’s not just my secret.
Kess and I had been meditating together for four days when she managed her first skip, recoiling in surprise at the return and then squawking with delight.
Mum’s a different story; she still hasn’t managed her first jump. At first I thought she was scared, but then I started to wonder whether she was just so used to living inside time that she didn’t know how to let it go.
After a while I began to push, tell her she was ready. ‘Just go for it, Mum.’
After saying this a few times though, she snapped: ‘That’s enough, Coutlyn.’
Her tone was so sharp, so final, that I sucked in a breath. Even though I’ve been careful this time around, done everything I can to help her chill about skipping, it’s starting to happen the same as it did before.
I’m not sure if she’s going to be ready. More than anything now, we need to stop the fire from taking hold.
The day before the hearing, we meet at the climbing centre for one last run-through. All the others have done a practice base-jump already. Mason first, on purpose this time, then Echo and Amon, seasoned climbers suddenly realising they can fly.
Boc has also headed out of the city a few times, climbing cliffs or data towers then diving off like a human bird. I don’t think anything could stop him. But now that the application hearing is so close even he seems to have eased off, focused on helping us prepare.
We’re packing up after my final run-through when Boc makes his way over to me.
‘You’re the only one who hasn’t tried a base-jump,’ he says.
As if that’s somehow news. I glance at the door. All the others have gone. ‘Yeah, well. There’s a reason for that.’
‘C’mon. I get that you’re scared. But I can help.’ Boc steps in front of me as if trying to block my escape. ‘Harness the fear, use it.’
That makes me stop and meet him in the eye. Well, I would, but he’s at least two heads taller than me.
‘Why do you want to help me?’ I ask.
‘Because.’ Boc crosses his arms, his shoulders square.
I wait for some sort of put-down about illegals being dead weight.
‘Look,’ he begins. ‘I get why you don’t trust me. You already know what I think of illegals. But you’re willing to negotiate a fast-track of my military career anyway. And you taught me to skip. I guess I feel like … I owe you.’
The tiniest smidge of guilt creeps over me. I let my eyes travel up the height of the wall. For some reason I find myself thinking of Mum, too scared to let herself drop into a skip. She’s missing out on so much by not letting go of her fear.
‘C’mon, you don’t have to do it on your own. I’ll help you the whole way. Use a harness until you reach the top landing.’
I take a sharp breath through my nose. I imagine myself preparing for a time skip, drawing on all I’ve learnt about facing the unknown.
I let the breath out. ‘Okay.’
A fruit flan with real bananas is sitting on the bench when I get home, a pot of creamy pasta steaming on the stove.
I’m not sure what was worse: trying to hold on to the wall as I climbed when my hands wouldn’t stop shaking, or having to let go at the top. But I did it. Even with my heart hammering the whole time. Even though I almost gave up more than once, I reached the top landing and survived a base-jump.
With Boc’s coaching I managed to push down the whirlwind of fear, and hold it deep inside. It was still there, but somehow contained. And for the first time since coming back here, I’m not scared of Boc anymore.
Mum serves the pasta, our last meal before the hearing tomorrow. We’re both quiet tonight. We’ve already agreed that no matter what happens, I won’t come back here straight away. There’s a chance the authorities might watch where I go, and I can’t risk them working out I grew up in the city once they know I’m illegal. It’s as good as turning Mum in for keeping an illegal baby.
And if the application’s accepted … who knows what will happen. Do I get access to rations straight away? Will they give me a place to stay? Will they cover it in the news? It’s all so far beyond everything I ever imagined, even my excitement feels weird.
Mum and I sit in our armchairs resting our bowls in our knees. It’s the way we always eat, but the comscreen is off at least so it feels a bit more like an occasion. The pasta is warm and creamy and full of mushrooms.
Neither of us speaks as we chew. The food is good but the meal is bittersweet.
‘You okay, Mum?’ I ask after a while.
‘Yes, of course.’ She swallows and finds a smile. ‘It’s just … I was thinking –’ Her eyes glass over.
‘What?’
‘No, nothing. Just that it will be strange living without you here. If the application is accepted, I mean.’
I rest my fork in the bowl. ‘I could still apply for a room nearby, couldn’t I? We could meet up by chance, strike up a conversation and, you know, get to know each other.’ I do this jokey head-wobble. ‘Maybe we could end up as housemates in the end.’
Her eyes soften. ‘Yes, of course.’
I rest my bowl on the arm of the chair, my eyes brimming with tears. All my life she’s made space for me in a room that’s meant for one person. We’ve slept in the same bed, worn the same clothes. I grew up sharing food off her plate.
No matter how far I go from here, she’ll always be part of who I am.
I reach out a hand and place it on her forearm. ‘You’ll still be my mum, no matter what they say.’
‘I know,’ Mum says. ‘It’s okay, Coutlyn. We can never be mother and daughter officially, even if you become a citizen. I’m not upset.’ She rests her hand on top of mine. ‘Just give it your all, okay? Don’t hold back. If you’re granted citizen status … you’ll be safe.’
I send a silent prayer to the universe. Let her be safe, too.
‘Keep an eye on emergency alerts while I’m gone, okay? Do exactly as they say. Don’t waste any time, understand?’ I say to Mum. We have months until the fire, and if everything goes to plan, there won’t be any firestorm at all, but I want her to be ready just in case.
Her mouth lifts at the corners. ‘This again?’ I’ve been banging on about this so much, it’s turned into a joke. ‘I’m the one who gave you a million lectures about taking emergency alerts seriously, remember?’
‘Yeah, I know.’ She’s the one who gave me everything.
The courtroom is silent when I return from the first skip of the application hearing. A collective intake of air escapes from the panellists, cutting through the still room. And then, I swear I pick the exact second when the energy in the room whooshes into overdrive.
Keeping my chin down and eyes low, I reach for a waiting cotton wrap. My hair has been dyed dark, and cropped short. Even my eyelashes and eyebrows have been darkened, which was way expensive but, given the situation, essential. Even so I’m aware that my face matches one that’s on file at Karoly High. The less these government officials see of my features, the better.
One of the panel members stands and leans over the panel bench. She’s tiny, with sharp features.
‘You can do that again?’ she barks.
‘No problem.’ I reposition my feet, trying to shine confidence while my gut twists tighter. ‘How many minutes would you like?’
A whispered discussion by the panel. ‘Ten minutes, please.’
‘Okay.’ And I’m gone.
More panellists have been called in once I return. Mason explains some vague points that he already explained, before one of them asks whether it’s possible to teleport during a skip, to change locations.
Just briefly, Mason hesitates before says, ‘We’ll explain the finer details once we have a guarantee the application will be accepted. We’re open to negotiation.’
A minute of whispering from the panel leads into a nod for us to continue, so we move into the second demo of six quick jumps in a row.
At one point I glance acr
oss for a quick eyebrow lift from Kessa. Her parents are here, as are Amon and Echo’s. You can see the pride on the faces of Mason’s folks as they watch. That’s our son. They’re all here to support Mason, that’s the line we prepared in case anyone asks. But it helps to know they’re also here for me.
The panellists ask more questions that are simply repeats of stuff we’ve been through already. They announce a recess while they consider the verdict.
It’s difficult to think anything coherent while we wait, impossible to form more than stilted replies. Alistair keeps glancing towards the exit to the back room so I make a point of sticking by his side. Maybe if we stare at the door hard enough we can will it open together.
I have no idea how long it takes. Thirty minutes? Fifty? A lifetime? Eventually the panellists return, six in total. There’s a rush back to seats, a game of musical chairs where the stakes are life and death. I find a spot between Kessa and Alistair, my hands trapped between my thighs and eyes on the backrest in front, my body contained as well as my mind.
This is it, right now. The words about to be spoken will affect the rest of my life.
The panellist who I’m pretty sure is a High Court judge begins a speech about the resource challenges faced by the city, and how we have to be careful with every portion that’s allocated. It’s only when he pauses to say, ‘We have to be smart, and work together,’ that I allow myself a flicker of hope. A sense of a waiting future, fresh with possibility.
Finally, the High Court judge nods at one of the clerks sitting to one side. The clerk reaches for a compad and, without glancing sideways, begins reading the verdict in monotone.
There’s a whole lot of legal jargon that he reads like a shopping list. The he finishes with a single clear sentence:
‘Application for citizen status by the illegal known as Carolyn Karimi: rejected.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE WORD LANDS like a cold stone in my stomach. Rejected. All my life I’ve been rejected by the system. Why did I let myself believe this time would be different?
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