Trust Me Too

by Paul Collins

  Lord Brimstone removed his pendant and brandished the sapphire. A crackle of blue energy, like directed lightning, sizzled from the blue jewel towards Raph. The sword was blown from his hands, and Raph was thrown to the floor. He scrabbled backwards, his fingers brushing the chip of marble that had broken from the statue.

  Raph’s hand closed around the small piece of stone. Murmuring a quick prayer to the Designers, he jumped to his feet and hurled it. The chip con nected with Lord Brimstone’s forehead.

  The lord’s pendant hit the floor, the blue jewel shattering as he flung his arms out wide. His mouth gaped in a silent scream as he disappeared - not in a single instant like the captain, but slowly, painfully, piece by piece.

  All eyes were on Lord Brimstone’s disintegrating form. Raph tore his gaze away, knowing that he had to act fast. Scooping up the sword from where it had fallen, he swung it at the statue’s outstretched hand. Two marble fingertips fell to the floor. Dropping the sword, Raph snatched them up and threw the first at Lord Blaze.

  The Lord lifted an arm to shield his face. As the marble fingertip touched his hand, the second Lord began to disperse.

  Raph tossed the second fingertip, but Lord Dante raised his staff and blasted it away with an arc of blue lightning. His face distorted with rage, the final Lord strode towards Raph. Energy flashed from the end of his staff.

  Raph flung himself to the floor, narrowly escap ing a bolt of blue, then rolled to dodge another, and jumped to his feet. As Lord Dante took aim again, Raph dashed to the statue and tried to conceal him self behind it.

  ‘The Oracle cannot protect you,’ snarled Lord

  Dante. He thrust the staff forward and a blaze of energy erupted towards the statue, hitting it square in the chest. Raph was slammed into the wall by the force of the explosion, which shattered the mar ble into thousands of tiny pieces, scattering in all directions.

  As Lord Dante threw back his head to laugh, a miniscule fragment of marble flew into his mouth and lodged in his throat. His laughter choked and his expression turned from victory to defeat. And then he too was gone.

  Raph rubbed the back of his head as he walked through the rubble. He looked around, amazed that the people had remained, stunned into silence.

  Behind him, the fragments of marble rose up and reassembled themselves. When the statue was again complete, the captain reappeared beside it.

  At first bemused, he looked at Raph, then dropped to one knee. ‘Lord Raphael.’

  Raph turned to the captain. ‘Lord Raphael?’ He said the words tentatively, as if trying them on for size. ‘Lord Raphael. I think I like that.’

  He looked at the statue, trying to make sense of what Orry had said. Interfaces. Games. Environments. Glitches. It did not make sense.

  He turned to face the people. This is what made sense. They were all gazing at him in awe. Him? An orphan boy? Except that he didn’t feel like a mere boy anymore.

  Possibilities rushed through his mind as he strode over to the three stone chairs. The Inquisition was gone .. . but so was the Dama. After a moment’s hesitation, he sat in the centre chair.

  One by one, the people dropped to their knees. And Lord Raphael smiled.

  Get this. You are so not going to believe it. About twenty minutes ago Mum calls me for dinner, see. So I go out and everyone’s at the table because Nan is visiting us, which means we’re having one of those special sit-down, can’t-have-the-TV-on under-any-circumstances, forced-to-listen-to-boring conversation kind of meals together.

  Anyway, Nan’s grabbed the spot at the head of the table, so I pull up a chair across from Mum and Dad and the first thing I notice is the number of places set. I’m about to say something but Dad calls out, Jason! Come on, matey. We’re waiting to eat here.’

  Then Mum rolls her eyes and asks, ‘What does that son of ours do in his room all day, anyway?’

  Well of course I go to say something again but Mum beats me to it. ‘Finally!’ she says looking behind me.

  ‘Come on, Jason, hurry up or it’s going to get cold.’ And before I know it, the chair next to me gets yanked back and I hear, ‘Shove over, Sis. We all know your bum is enormous but you don’t need that much room.’

  Now I guess that sounds fairly normal right? Just the sort of thing a pea-brained, pain-in-the-butt brother would say to his amazingly beautiful and absolutely average-backside-sized sister?

  Sure. Except for this one teensy-weensy detail:

  I DON’T HAVE A BROTHER!

  In fact, I’m an only child. That’s right. Thirteen years ago when my parents copped an eyeful of their cute-as-a-button new-born baby girl, they obviously thought, ‘Well, you can’t improve on perfection, so we might as well give the whole breeding thing a big miss from here on in!’

  So let me just repeat - I DON’T HAVE A

  BROTHER!

  What I did have however, was some strange kid with freckles, a mop of messy hair and an expression like a bored zombie, sprawled beside me at the din ner table, chewing with his mouth open, claiming to be my brother, while my parents and my nan just sat there as if this was all perfectly normal!

  I must be dreaming, I thought. So I just did what I normally do to jolt myself awake. I closed my eyes, pictured myself in bed and shook my arms and legs about madly.

  When I opened my eyes I was still sitting at our dining room table, but now three members of my family plus one complete stranger were gawking at me as if I was an escaped lunatic.

  ‘Teagan, what in the world’s got into you?’

  That was Mum.

  ‘You’re not coming down with something are you, sweetie?’

  That was Dad.

  ‘Gee T-bum,just when I thought you couldn’t pos sibly get any weirder, you go and prove me wrong.’ That was my obnoxious, never-seen-him-before in-my-entire-life brother.

  ‘She’s having a fit! And no wonder. Spends far too much time camped in front of a computer screen-it fries the brain cells!’

  And that of course was my nan who spends far too much of her time telling me about the dangers of computers and warning me all about me.

  For example:

  ‘Teagan, you’re too pig-headed for your own good!’ And you’re too kind, Nan!

  ‘Teagan, if someone tells you to do one thing, you go and do the exact opposite!’ Got me in one, Nan!

  ‘Teagan, you mark my words, that stubborn streak of yours will land you in trouble one day, my girl!’ Gee thanks for the pep talk, Nan!

  I stared back at the four sets of eyes that were now zeroed in on me. It was definitely time to put an end to all this craziness.

  ‘Okay, well I give up then,’ I said jerking my thumb at my non-brother. ‘Who is this guy and why is he pretending to be part of our family?’

  Stranger boy next to me stopped eating for a moment and sat there with his mouth open, displaying a lovely gob full of half-chewed food. Mum and Dad glanced at each other briefly, then back at me. Nan jabbed a finger my way.

  ‘I knew it! She’s contracted an Internet virus and now she’s delirious!’

  Beside me, my mystery-guest brother grabbed his head, rolled his eyes back and let out a long groan.

  ‘Awww, you can not be serious. You’re not still going on about that stupid camera thing are you, Sis?’

  ‘What stupid camera thing?’ Mum wanted to know. Me too.

  ‘Apparently her camera’s not working properly so naturally I get the blame. Says I borrowed it without asking and then reckons I broke it somehow. I told you a million times, Sis, I never touched it.’

  This was getting way too weird for words. I swung around to face the ring-in at our table.

  ‘This has nothing to do with you - whoever you are - borrowing my camera. AND STOP CALliNG ME “SIS”! I am not your sister. And you are not my b
rother. And you know why? Because I don’t have a brother. And if I ever did have a brother, you can bet your life it wouldn’t be a drop-kick like you!’

  But I didn’t seem to be getting through to any of them. Nan just sat there making annoying tsk-tsking noises at me, while my ‘brother’ stuffed his face with food (occasionally finding his mouth) and Mum rabbited on to Dad.

  ‘I really don’t know what’s got into the two of them lately, do you? They used to be best mates. Remember all those beautiful sandcastles they spent ages building together at the beach?’ Mum said.

  Now my head was beginning to spin.

  ‘What are you talking about? They were my beauti ful sandcastles. Nobody helped me! I made them all my ...’

  I jumped up from the table, raced into the lounge room and grabbed the big digital photo frame off the TV cabinet. I’d figure out how I could put a stop to all this madness. I clicked through a few images until I found the one I wanted.

  ‘There!’ I said placing it on the table in full view of everyone. ‘All my own work!’

  It was a photo of me - just me - sitting proudly behind a huge sandcastle stunningly decorated with driftwood, shells and seaweed.

  ‘Hey, come on, Sis,’ my non-existent brother whined, ‘be fair. Your design maybe, but I did most of the muscle work. Look,’ he said poking his finger at the empty patch of sand beside me on the screen,

  ‘I’ve got my trusty spade in my hand.’

  ‘Yes,’ Mum said with a frown and pointing to the same vacant space, ‘but just look at the colour of your shoulders and face, Jason. You were always a devil to keep sunscreen on!’

  I squinted at the photo until my eyes stung.

  ‘Wh . .. what are you looking at? There’s noth .. .’ But Mum was already busy clicking through more pictures and everyone else was ignoring me and crowding in to get a better look.

  ‘Awww, now that’s one of my absolute favourites,’

  Dad said. ‘A terrific shot of the both of you. Love those big smiles!’

  ‘Both of us?’ I said peering at an image of me on a horse. ‘It’s just me in that photo. It’s just me in all these photos!’

  ‘Come on, Sis. You’re taking this stupid “my big-brother-doesn’t-exist-anymore-cause-I’m-really mad-at-him-even-though-he’s-done-nothing-wrong” thing a bit far, aren’t you?’

  Everyone’s eyes were now directed my way like I was the odd one out, like I was the one spouting crazy-talk. I began edging away from the table. This wasn’t just weird anymore. It was getting scary.

  ‘I haven’t got a clue what’s going on here,’ I told them, ‘but I want you all to know that it’s SO. NOT. FUNNY!’

  I spun around and stamped down the corridor to my room. When I got there I slammed the door behind me, threw myself on my bed and hugged a pillow to my chest. This had become just too freaky for words. I wanted my normal, boring, predictable life back! I decided to go over everything that had just happened to see if I could find some answers.

  From the bottom drawer of my bedside table I dug out an old Dictaphone that I’d borrowed from

  Dad ages ago to record and store all my brilliant world-shattering ideas. Of course that was before I discovered that I didn’t actually have any brilliant world-shattering ideas. Now maybe it was finally going to come in handy.

  I sat up in bed and propped a pillow behind my back. I pushed the ‘power’ button and watched the little Dictaphone light glow green. Then I hit ‘record’ and held it close to my mouth.

  ‘Get this. You are so not going to believe it. About twenty minutes ago Mum calls me for dinner, see ... ‘

  I’d only just finished recording what could have been the pilot episode for ‘When Normal Families Turn Nuts!’ when a single thump shook my bedroom door.

  ‘Sis, it’s me. Can I come in?’

  The door started to open so I quickly pressed

  ‘stop’ and shoved the voice-recorder under a pillow on my lap. Then my make-believe brother wandered in, spun my desk chair around and plonked himself down on it.

  ‘Hey you’re not still mad at me are you, Teags? Look you gotta believe me I ...’

  ‘You stop right there, mister!’ I told him pushing myself back against the bed head.

  ‘But Sis ...’

  ‘I mean it! STOP!’ I held up my hand like a traffic cop. ‘Let’s get one thingpelflct[y clear. You are not my brother and I am not your sister ... well ... okay ... that’s really two things ... but I don’t care. It’s still true. You know it and I know it, and if you don’t stop pretending that you are my brother immediately then I will start screaming my lungs out until my parents are forced to call the police and have you arrested just to shut me up! Now tell me the truth. Who are you really?’

  It took my fake-brother a while to answer me.

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s against the rules and anyway you won’t believe me.’

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘Okay, I’m a visitor from another planet.’

  ‘Ha! Garbage!’

  ‘Told you.’

  ‘Well alrighty then, ET. Why don’t you just prove it to me? Like how about you use your super-duper, extra-special, whiz-bang, inter-galactic, magic powers to . . . let’s see . . . urn . . . oh, I know, levitate my iPod off the desk.’

  My iPod instantly levitated off the desk, rotated every which way, separated into a hundred different bits and pieces, then reassembled itself, played a blast of ‘Ta-daaa!’-type music and returned exactly to where it had been.

  I screamed. Loud and long.

  Dad’s voice drifted in from the lounge room.

  ‘Come on, you two. That’s enough now. Sort out your differences. No more fighting. I mean it!’

  I had a feeling our difftrences might be more humungous than my father could ever imagine.

  ‘But ... but ... how ... how did you ... do that?’

  ‘Easy. I just used my super-duper, extra-special, whiz-bang, inter-galactic, magic powers.’

  My brain felt like it was about to pop. A visitor from outer space? That was just too corny and too way out to be true. Wasn’t it?

  ‘You ... you don’t ... look ... like you’re from another planet.’

  ‘I’m wearing a Subatomic Molecular Image

  Refraction and Distortion Shell.’

  ‘Of course you are,’ I said in a daze. ‘I heard they’re all the rage this summer.’

  ‘Perhaps if I disengaged it for you?’

  The would-be alien closed his eyes and his whole body glowed and shimmered. His messy hair morphed into a smooth, neat covering like velvet, his cheeks rose, his nose shrank, his ears pushed close against his head and his freckled skin became as flawless as an air-brushed supermodel’s. He re opened his eyes. They were larger than before and a deeper bluey-green colour. He smiled. His teeth were perfect. Then I noticed that a skin-tight material that clung to every curve of his body had replaced his old T-shirt and jeans. A single thought floated around my head.

  He’s hot as!

  (Of course it was perfectly okay for me to think this because, remember, he wasn’t really my brother, he was just an alien.)

  Then he spoke with a voice as smooth and sweet as honey.

  ‘In your language my name is pronounced Darvan. I hope we can be friends.’

  For a moment I thought I was going to pass out or be sick or possibly both. My imposter-brother was actually from another planet! Aliens had landed! We were being invaded! I had to tell someone, but even if I did, who in their right mind would believe me?

  That’s when I remembered the Dictaphone I was still clutching under the pillow on my lap. I ran my finger over the buttons and selected what I knew was

  ‘record’.
>
  ‘Well, go on,’ I said, ‘if you really want us to be friends, you have to tell me the truth. All of it.’

  Darvan studied me closely like he was making up his mind. Then he spoke.

  ‘Fine. If you want the truth, then this is it. You were right of course about me lying. I am not your brother. I come from a planet not unlike your own, but many galaxies away. My people have come here in peace. We wish only to learn about your civilisa tion, so that we can better help and protect you.’

  ‘Help? What makes you think we ... ah ... earth lings ... need your help anyway?’

  ‘Global warming? Hole in the ozone? Species extinction? Pollution?’

  ‘Oh yeah, right.’

  ‘We are far more advanced than you and have the technology to fix those problems. We can secretly guide your top scientists and innovators in the right direction.’

  ‘But wait on, my parents aren’t scientists or inno vators. Mum’s an accountant and Dad’s a counsellor. What big discovery could you possibly be “guiding” them towards?’

  ‘I am not an Advanced Technology Facilitator yet, but I hope to be. I am only young - like you. This is what we call an imbedding. I am in your family to learn as much as I can about your race and your customs. You have nothing to fear from me.’

  ‘So you’re here like ... on work experience?’ Darvan smiled and nodded.

  ‘But you also said something about protecting us. Protecting us from what exactly?’

  ‘Attack. Invasion. Not everyone in the known uni verse is friendly.’

  ‘You’re telling me that there are some bad guys out there?’

  A corner of Darvan’s mouth twitched slightly. ‘Oh yes. Very bad.’

  ‘Well, protecting and helping sounds okay, but what about Mum and Dad and Nan? What have you done to them?’

  ‘They have undergone a Temporary Reality

  Adjustment. I assure you, the procedure is completely safe and reversible. They now believe they have a son and grandson called Jason and everything they see and hear will always conform to that reality.’