I gingerly tried the front doorknob, then slipped around the side of the house and tugged at the sliding door. It gave way and I slid it open silently. It seemed like an incredible stroke of luck, but Daddy would say there was no such thing as luck. Perhaps I had been able to sense the unlocked door all along. Perhaps my instincts had led me to this house, this door. I stepped into the house and slid the door closed behind me.
My feet sank into unexpectedly soft carpet, and for a moment I felt unsteady, so used to the comforting solidity of concrete and earth. The house was warm and smelled artificial and sweet, a sickly smell that I guessed was from a plug-in air freshener. I tried to take shallow breaths in order not to draw the scent too far into my lungs. Who knew what effect it would have on my mind?
My mission from Daddy was to unplug all the appliances in the kitchen of the house. I crossed the living room floor in the half-light cast by the standby lights on the television and DVD player. I went into the kitchen area and unplugged the kettle, the toaster, the microwave and the sandwich press, then turned to head back into the living room. But something stopped me. I reached out and pulled open the pantry cupboard doors.
Shelf after shelf of neatly stacked and packaged foods. Tall canisters of rice and pasta. Tins of tomatoes and beans and corn and peaches. I saw brands and logos that I’d forgotten. Old El Paso taco shells. Barbecue Shapes. Indomie instant noodles. Tiny Teddies. Heinz Baked Beans.
‘You should eat something.’
I bit down hard on my lip to stop myself from crying out.
‘Fox!’ I hissed. ‘You were supposed to stay outside.’
Fox shrugged, and pushed past me to peer into the cupboard. ‘What is all this?’ he asked. He picked up a bottle of tomato sauce and squeezed a small blob onto the tip of his finger, licking it experimentally. His eyebrows shot up. He replaced it and reached for a jar of peanut butter.
‘What are you doing?’ I whispered, trying to elbow him away from the pantry. We hadn’t been this physically close since that night in my room, but I couldn’t let him distract me. There was too much to lose.
‘What’s this?’ Fox asked, holding up a bottle. ‘It’s called Ice Magic. Is it really magic? It doesn’t feel cold like ice. Or is that part of the magic?’
‘Put it down,’ I said. ‘Please.’
Fox was slipping away. What we’d done together … it had changed him somehow. Daddy was right. It had been wrong. I knew that, but I hadn’t realised how serious it was. What would happen if Fox continued down this path? Poisoning his body? Who knew what effect it would have on his mind?
I knew that if I didn’t do something, I might lose Fox forever.
‘Come on,’ I told him. ‘Let’s go.’
Fox’s finger was in his mouth, and his eyes were wide. ‘It is magic.’
‘Fox,’ I said, plucking at his sleeve. ‘Please. Do this for me.’
He looked up and met my eyes, and I didn’t understand what I saw there. Longing. But something else. Something angry and untethered.
‘Okay, Ruby.’
I flinched. ‘Don’t call me that.’
‘Okay,’ Fox repeated. ‘I’ll do whatever you want. I promise. If you’ll do one thing for me.’
He held out the bottle of Ice Magic.
‘Taste this first. Then I’ll come back with you. I’ll do what Daddy says. I’ll be good.’
I stared at the plastic bottle. The thought of tasting it filled me with disgust. I couldn’t believe I’d ever put that sort of thing into my body. That I’d begged for it at the supermarket. That it used to be a treat or a reward. I remembered Easter eggs and Christmas pudding and pancakes slathered with butter and maple syrup, and I didn’t know the girl who had eaten them. It couldn’t have been me. How could I have polluted myself? Desecrated my own body with such mindless indulgence?
‘I can’t,’ I said at last.
Fox continued to hold the bottle out for a moment longer. Then his shoulders slumped and he turned to place the plastic bottle back on the pantry shelf.
‘Okay,’ he murmured, and slipped away into the darkness. I heard the soft scrape of the sliding door open, then close.
I stood there for a moment more, staring at the Ice Magic. Then I carefully closed the pantry door and left the kitchen. I had to get back. Back to Daddy. My hand reached out to push the sliding door open. But something made me pause. A memory, rising unbidden from depths I thought I had buried.
A Saturday morning at home, back when everything had been normal. Back when my parents loved each other, and my little brother was a living, breathing human being. He’d woken me up at dawn, and we’d crept into the kitchen to make breakfast in bed for Mum and Dad. Waffles with ice-cream and strawberries and a chocolatey shell of Ice Magic, and a pot of tea. We’d put frangipani from the garden in a vase and arranged it all on a tray. Then we’d carried it proudly into their room, and climbed onto the bed. Dad had the tea, Mum had the strawberries, and Anton and I demolished the waffles and ice-cream. We’d talked about silly things – about how far it was to the moon, and whether dogs could remember their dreams. When breakfast was over, we’d snuggled in under the doona and made shapes from the cracks in the ceiling, telling stories about them until we drifted into a sticky, contented morning slumber, warm and safe and loved.
I let my hand fall, turned and padded silently up the corridor, past the bathroom and laundry to the master bedroom. The door was ajar, and the slightest touch from my hand was enough for it to swing gently open. I stepped inside.
She was curled up in a ball, as if she were trying to shield herself from something. He was spread out on his back, his mouth hanging open, a thin white crust forming at the corners of his lips. The debris of their lives littered their bedside tables – half-drunk glasses of water, dog-eared novels, smartphones plugged in to charge.
I thought about their bodies, rotting from the inside, grunting and squelching away, engines devoted only to breaking down fats and acids, living compost heaps. No wonder they never really saw what was right in front of them. No wonder they slept through their lives. What else could they do?
The longer I watched them, the less real they seemed. They were shells, empty meat cases, like the butchered carcasses of pigs hanging up at the market. Were they even breathing? What if they’d died in their sleep? What if every toxicant out here in the real world had suddenly dropped dead, and only me and Daddy and the rest of our family were left, in the whole world?
Would that really be so bad?
He twitched and snorted, and I stepped backwards into the hallway, making my way to the sliding door and slipping out into the night. Fox wasn’t out there waiting for me, and I returned to the Institute alone.
15
As I crossed the courtyard the next day, I heard the roller door at the front of the Institute groan, signalling the return of the latest Outreach team from the Red House. Daddy had announced that there would be no Outreach program for a while after this, because the risk of being captured by the Quintus Septum was too great.
I paused to watch the white van rumble in. Three Institute members climbed out, then two strangers, dressed in ordinary street clothes, blinking in the light and holding their blindfolds.
They were older than me – maybe late thirties or early forties. They were holding hands and looking around nervously. I remembered my first glimpse of the Institute – how bleak it had seemed. I hadn’t heard the laughter of the Monkeys. Hadn’t felt the love radiating from Daddy’s Sanctum. I hadn’t understood anything.
The man took a few steps forward, eager to see it all, learn our secrets. His partner seemed less sure, holding back a little, but allowing him to pull her along. I wondered whether many couples had joined the Institute over the years. It would be hard to sever yourself from those yearnings of the flesh when your partner was there with you. How could you become boundless with someone tethering you to the earth like a lead balloon?
I headed back inside, but paused in the
doorway to the mess. Lib and Fox were standing in the entrance to the kitchen, their voices raised in anger.
‘If Daddy is sublime,’ Fox was saying, ‘why does he wear glasses? Shouldn’t he have perfect eyesight?’
‘You need to stop this,’ said Lib. ‘Stop the questions. Stop the attitude. It won’t do you any good.’
‘You can’t tell me what to do,’ said Fox. ‘I’m not a Monkey anymore. I’m a whole person. I want to make choices.’
Lib’s mouth was pinched pale with anger and worry. ‘Perhaps you’d like me to fetch Daddy. He can tell you what to do.’
They stared at each other for a moment – Lib furious, Fox stubborn and glowering. But finally Fox looked away. His shoulders hunched over defensively.
‘Fine,’ he said, and slunk away.
Fox was clearly fascinated by the new sublimates. He sat next to them in the courtyard the next morning as we waited for Daddy’s Hour to start, bombarding them with questions. He asked them where they were from, how old they were. Were they married? Did they have children? Any pets? The sublimates answered, charmed by Fox as everyone always was.
‘Why didn’t you have children?’ Fox asked.
‘It seemed irresponsible,’ the man said. ‘Overpopulation, global warming. We didn’t want to contribute to that.’
Fox frowned, considering this. ‘I get it,’ he said. ‘But if there are no new children, then who’s going to fix the world?’
I glanced sharply at him.
‘Fox!’ Pippa hissed. ‘What are you talking about? You know it’s Daddy who will save us.’
The sublimates looked from Pippa to Fox. For a moment I thought Fox was going to respond, but he ignored Pippa and turned back to the newcomers.
‘Have you been to the ocean?’ he asked.
The woman laughed. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘It can’t be more than an hour away from here.’
Fox shook his head, smiling in disbelief. It didn’t seem possible to me either, even though I knew it was true. At the Institute, everything seemed worlds away.
I mechanically spooned salted quinoa into my mouth, making sure I only ate half my allocated ration. That was all I needed. Soon, I wouldn’t need any more fuel. I’d be like Daddy, surviving on air and sunlight.
When Daddy arrived, he introduced the sublimates to us as Ashmole (her) and Tausend (him), and by lunchtime they were known as Ash and Toser. Against my will, I remembered Fox telling me about how new sublimates usually came with money. But perhaps he had been mistaken. After all, I hadn’t brought any money with me to the Institute, and Daddy had never mentioned it.
Daddy gathered us together in the afternoon for a special meeting.
‘I’ve been in my laboratory,’ he told us. ‘Working around the clock on a new technic.’
I thought of our element drills with Welling, and Daddy’s quest to find the secret of aether.
Daddy held up a small glass beaker, filled with a clear liquid.
‘It looks like water, doesn’t it?’ Daddy said. ‘Harmless. Pure. But it isn’t. This is a deadly cocktail of aconite, mercury, lead and cyanide. One drop of it mixed with our drinking water could kill everyone here in a matter of seconds.’
I felt a stab of fear at the suggestion, realising how vulnerable our bodies were. How permeable. This was why we had to work so hard. This was why we had to become sublime. To save us from these useless bodies that could be felled with a single drop of clear liquid.
‘Valentius is going to drink it all,’ said Daddy. ‘Every last drop.’
I looked around at the others. Lib’s face was utterly expressionless, as was Welling’s. I swallowed down my panic. Daddy knew what he was doing. I trusted him.
I glanced at the new sublimates. Ash had gone white, her brow creased with concern. But Toser’s eyes burned with a fierce intensity, almost as if he wanted Val to drink it, to die.
I looked at Fox. His cheeks were pink and his eyes were wild, as if he was fighting to stay composed.
Daddy held out the flask to Val, who took it.
‘No!’ Fox burst out, leaping forward with his arms outstretched.
Welling and Stan caught him. Fox struggled against them.
‘Don’t make him do it!’ Fox yelled. ‘He is a person, with dreams of his own. Don’t make him die.’
Val drank the liquid in the flask without hesitating for a moment.
Daddy smiled, and patted Val kindly on the arm. ‘Thank you, Valentius,’ he said. ‘You may sit down now.’
Val handed the flask back to Daddy, and sat down.
‘You must understand,’ said Daddy, ‘that everything I do, I do to protect you. Sometimes my technic may seem cruel. Sometimes you may not be able to avocate my intent. But you must trust me. I will not let you come to harm. You are my children, and I would give my life for you in a heartbeat if I thought it would keep you safe.’
I glanced over at Val. He seemed completely fine.
It had been a test. Daddy had been testing us. To see if we trusted him. Had he done this sort of thing before? Lib and Welling didn’t seem surprised, but everyone else looked shaken. Had Val known? Had Daddy let him in on the secret beforehand? Or was he really that loyal?
‘There is a plan,’ said Daddy. ‘A plan to defeat the Quintus Septum and all their toxicant meat-followers. A plan that will elevate us all to the sublime, to cast off everything that binds us to this muddy rock. I cannot tell you what it is, yet. But you must trust me. Daddy’s going to make everything okay.’
I believed him. What choice did I have?
Daddy turned his gaze to Fox, who was still being held by Welling and Stan, his eyes bright with tears. ‘Furicius,’ he said, his face solemn. ‘I’m disappointed in you.’
He opened his mouth as if to say more, but then evidently thought better of it, shaking his head as he walked away, disappearing inside.
Welling and Stan released Fox, who shook them off with a resentful glare and stalked off to B Block.
Lib’s eyes turned on me, and I saw hatred festering there.
This is because of you, her look said. You did this to him. You ruined him.
And I knew she was right.
Everyone headed off to their allocated work, but I made my way to the site of the destroyed kitchen garden. Garden trellises, pots and other implements had been organised to make a kind of obstacle course that we trained on whenever we had a spare moment. I didn’t want to be around the others. Around Fox.
I threw myself into the course. I sprinted and climbed and crawled until my body ached and my clothes were soaked in sweat. Daddy said dampness was weakness. That to be sublime we had to shed every last drop of moisture. That our actuality must be dry in order to call forth the Scintilla.
‘I need to talk to you.’
It was Fox. I ignored him, and ran the course again. My lungs burned for air, and I felt dizzy and nauseated. But I didn’t stop. I was in control.
I thought he’d go away. But he didn’t. He just waited.
I ran the course again.
And again.
Eventually my legs gave way beneath me, and I collapsed, gasping for breath. The lead in the soil seeped into my hands and knees, and ordered my body to stand.
My stomach heaved, but I swallowed hard. I was in control. I was strong.
Cool hands touched my shoulders and helped me to my feet.
‘I need to talk to you,’ Fox said again.
I yanked my elbow from his grasp and composed myself. ‘Furicius,’ I said, my breath still strained.
‘Don’t call me that.’ Fox pushed his hair away from his face and frowned.
‘Furicius,’ I said again. I had to be cool. Formal. I couldn’t let him see how he made me churn inside.
‘You can’t avoid me forever,’ he said. ‘I know you too well.’
It was true. Fox knew me better than anyone. But I had changed. I was strong, now. I was in control. I started to walk away.
‘I’m worried about
the Monkeys,’ Fox said.
I hesitated, then turned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘They’re hungry. And scared. They’re only allowed outside once a day to exercise, and they have to be totally silent. Daddy tells them stories that frighten them. They have nightmares, and they don’t play and laugh. They’re getting … quiet.’
‘Daddy’s only doing it to keep them safe,’ I told Fox. ‘The Quintus Septum broke in. They went for the Monkeys.’
‘Did they?’ asked Fox, levelling a flat look at me. ‘Did anyone else see them? Is there any evidence?’
I scoffed. ‘Do you think Daddy would lie about it? Who do you think destroyed our crops, then?’
An image flashed into my mind of Daddy, leading me out of my imprisonment, telling us about the attack. His hair had been wild, his usually pristine white clothes smudged. Dirt under his fingernails.
‘He would never do that,’ I said firmly.
Fox’s head snapped up, and he looked at something behind me, his eyes narrowing slightly.
‘Heracleitus.’ It was Daddy, crossing the courtyard to stand with me and Fox. ‘Heracleitus, I wish to speak with you.’ He glanced at Fox and nodded, expecting Fox to obediently slink away so we could speak in private.
But Fox just nodded back. His jaw was set stubbornly, his eyes fierce. After a moment’s pause, Daddy turned back to me.
‘Heracleitus, I wish to speak to you about your role in the upcoming Boundless Family plan. I have a series of tasks which must be handled delicately, and you’re the only one I trust enough to carry them out as I intend.’
I warmed a little under his praise. ‘Yes, Daddy.’
Daddy’s eyes flicked back to Fox. ‘But perhaps this is not the time for talking strategy,’ he said. ‘In any case, I must return to my laboratory. I have an important experiment I must conduct.’
The Boundless Sublime Page 18
