The Boundless Sublime

by Lili Wilkinson

  It was two police officers. One of them was familiar – I realised with a jolt that she was one of the ones who had picked me up the night I’d left the Institute. My heart thumped. Mum showed them in and they sat on the couch.

  ‘How are you doing, Ruby?’

  I nodded. ‘Okay.’

  My reply hung in the air. The police officer turned to Mum.

  ‘It’s been a week,’ she said. ‘We really need to ask Ruby some questions. We’re trying to get some more information on this organisation she spent time with. We think it has ties with a man called Glen Ardeer, and several missing persons cases.’

  Mum glanced over at me. I didn’t say anything. She shook her head. ‘That’s not a name Ruby has mentioned to me.’

  As if I’d mentioned any names to her.

  ‘This man is wanted for questioning,’ said the police officer. ‘We think he might be dangerous. It’d really help if Ruby could come down to the station for an official interview.’

  ‘I appreciate that,’ said Mum, her voice firm. ‘But she isn’t ready to talk. She’s been through a lot. She needs time.’

  The police officer nodded. ‘I understand.’

  ‘Maybe in a few days,’ said Mum. ‘I can bring her to the station and you can ask her anything. Just let her finish adjusting back to the real world.’

  The officers exchanged glances. ‘Okay,’ said the woman. ‘We’ll see you in a few days.’

  She gave Mum a card with a number on it, and left.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said.

  Mum came over and slid onto the couch next to me, her arms wrapping me up in a tight hug. ‘I love you so much,’ she said. ‘All I want is for you to be safe.’

  I nodded, aware that I should reciprocate. I should hug her back, or cry, or something. But I didn’t remember how to do any of those things.

  ‘I didn’t think it would be this hard,’ I told her.

  Mum gave me a squeeze. ‘You’re doing so well,’ she said. ‘You’re extraordinary.’

  Mum put on a dress and lipstick to go to her therapy appointment. I wondered again if the counsellor was made up, and she really was seeing someone, like Aunty Cath had said. Mum certainly seemed to be excited to be going. Or maybe she was just excited to get away from me.

  After she’d gone, I trudged back to my room and curled up on the bed with my laptop, my fingers treading well-worn pathways through the internet.

  Zosimon

  cult

  Daddy

  The Institute of the Boundless Sublime

  Quintus Septum

  Nothing. Not a whisper.

  I thought about the Monkeys, and felt a stab of guilt. I pictured the police officer’s card lying on the table in the hallway. What was the name she had said? The man they were looking for? Another image popped into my mind. The desk drawer in the Inner Sanctum. Maggie’s pendant. A wedding ring. A plush giraffe. My phone. And a credit card with a name on it.

  My heart began to pound.

  I typed Glen Ardeer into Google and hit enter.

  And there he was. He was younger, but it was unmistakably him. Same silver-rimmed glasses and white hair.

  Daddy.

  Seeing his face again was like an electric shock. Something inside me exploded, scattering shrapnel throughout my body. Little shards of guilt and shame and longing and hatred. I missed him. I missed Daddy so much. His calm, quiet certainty. His unwavering faith in me.

  But that wasn’t him. Not all of him, anyway. He was a liar. He wasn’t sublime. He didn’t live off light and air, he lived off chocolate and whisky and fast food. He’d lied about Maggie, and Fox. He’d been wrong about the casino. And he’d hurt me.

  I remembered his face. The twist of his mouth. The light in his eyes. He had beaten me, and he had liked it.

  With a shaking hand, I clicked the first link.

  Glen Ardeer was notorious. I read the Wikipedia page fifty times, spiralling between disgust and disbelief. He’d been a scientist, working in the nineties on some program to sterilise fruit flies. He’d published a paper proposing a technique for chemically sterilising humans. It had been pretty controversial – the groups that he’d suggested would benefit from sterilisation were what you’d expect from a white supremacist bigot. Lots of comparisons to Nazi eugenics had been made. Ardeer was fired from the university where he worked, and a few months later was arrested for sending death threats to former colleagues. He did a few months’ jail time, and disappeared before his parole period was up.

  That was it, then. That was Daddy. Not an opium smuggler, or a medieval knight, or an American Civil War veteran. Just some lunatic who wanted to engineer a race of superhumans.

  I saw the ghost of a strange girl, gaunt and hollow, reflected in the glint of the computer screen. I still didn’t recognise her.

  ‘Enough,’ I told the reflection.

  It was time to let go. Let go of Daddy and Fox and the Institute. None of it had been true. It was time to figure out who I was.

  When I heard the front door open, and Mum moving about in the living room, I went out to greet her, feeling clear-headed for the first time in forever.

  ‘Mum?’

  Mum looked up from the kitchen bench where she was making herself a cup of herbal tea.

  ‘I’d like to go and visit Anton,’ I said.

  Mum’s expression faltered a little, and she came forward to give me a hug. ‘Of course, darling.’

  Anton was the first step.

  Bare-limbed trees lined the cemetery pathways like watchful skeletons. Trees and roses were arranged in neat lines, each one with a bronze plaque underneath.

  Mum had a bunch of flowers. I’d brought one of the Matchbox cars that Anton had loved so much, and his plastic figurine of Elsa from Frozen, which sang ‘Let It Go’ in a tinny little voice if you pressed a button on her back. It seemed appropriate.

  A straggly rose was planted behind Anton’s plaque. Mum told me it was yellow – Anton’s favourite colour.

  ‘It’s just getting established,’ she said. ‘It’ll be beautiful soon.’

  I nodded.

  Mum talked to the plaque, telling it how happy she was that I had come home. About how she’d watched Ninja Warrior on TV and thought of him. About how she was making veggie burgers for dinner tonight but wouldn’t put in any tomato because she knew he didn’t like it.

  I wondered if she expected me to say something. I wasn’t sure I could. I couldn’t pretend that this dirt and bronze and straggly rose bush were my brother. My brother was gone. He was never coming back.

  There was so much lost in the past. What was left to look forward to?

  I didn’t know.

  But I had to find out. I had to keep going.

  I set the car and the Elsa doll down beside the plaque. Then I squared my shoulders and turned to Mum.

  ‘I think … maybe I’d like to go and see Dad as well.’

  Mum looked taken aback, but she nodded. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll talk to our lawyer about how to organise that. But in the meantime …’ She reached out and took my hand. ‘My counsellor runs a therapy group that’s meeting tonight. I think they could help you.’

  So it was real. There was no secret beau after all. Aunty Cath would be disappointed.

  I tried to imagine sitting on a chair in a circle, holding a styrofoam cup of coffee and talking about my feelings. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Daddy’s voice was finally gone from my head, but I knew I was a long way off being better. I needed help. I nodded.

  The smile that broke across Mum’s face was like a knife in my gut. Would I ever smile like that?

  ‘I’ll call him as soon as we get home,’ she said. ‘Let him know that you’re coming. He’ll be so pleased to finally meet you.’

  Mum was in a dress and lipstick again, ready to take me to her group. I’d put on some of the new clothes that she’d bought me – jeans and a flannel shirt, and new underwear. My new bra was too tight, squeezing the air from my l
ungs.

  Mum seemed nervous, fiddling with the strap on her watch, and it occurred to me that maybe she was seeing someone – someone in this therapy group. Maybe it was even the counsellor himself.

  We got into the car and Mum smiled brightly at me as she started the engine.

  ‘It’s not far.’

  It was going to be awkward, whether or not Mum’s hypothetical beau was there. They’d all stare at me. Mum said they already knew about me. They knew I was the cult girl. I’d be a curiosity, like a circus freak.

  We drove through an intersection that looked familiar. Traffic lights with a view of the city, and the illuminated golden snake of the freeway. I felt a throbbing in my feet, and remembered the numbing pain of walking barefoot away from the Institute.

  ‘Mum?’ I asked. ‘Where exactly is this meeting?’

  Mum laughed, and I noticed a brittle edge to it. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel. ‘Nearly there.’

  We drove past a shabby apartment block with sheets hanging in the windows instead of curtains, and turned down a street of light industrial buildings. We pulled in under a roller door that had been left open for us. My veins ran cold with dread.

  ‘Mum?’ I asked, my voice small and childlike.

  ‘We’re running a bit late,’ said Mum, her voice bright, as she parked the car and opened her door. ‘Hurry up!’

  I got out of the car. Everything seemed quiet. I glanced out to the street and considered running. But where would I go?

  My hands started trembling.

  ‘Come on,’ said Mum. ‘He’ll be waiting.’

  My feet were glued to the ground. ‘I’ve changed my mind. Can we just go home?’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Mum said. ‘You’re here now. You may as well come in. You don’t have to say anything. Just listen.’

  Her smile was too bright. Her eyes darted nervously to the doorway, and then back to me. She reached out and grabbed my hand, tugging me in through the doorway. I let her do it. What choice did I have now?

  Mum led me into the mess hall, which was crowded with about twenty adults, and a handful of children. They stood with their backs to us. Welling turned around when we entered, and our eyes met. Something wrenched inside me. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t Welling who had lied, tortured and probably killed. He didn’t know any better. He was as deluded as I had been. I smiled, but his eyes skated right over me, as if he didn’t know me. As if I were invisible, a ghost. Then he turned back to face the front. Nobody else noticed us.

  It was smaller than I remembered. Dirtier. The chairs and tables had been put away, and despite the stillness and silence of the crowd, I detected a certain nervous energy. I could smell stale urine and sweat and mildew. Was this something new? Or had I just never noticed it? Mum held my hand tightly.

  ‘What have you done?’ I muttered. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘You’ll understand soon,’ she said. ‘I promise. Daddy will explain everything.’

  Daddy.

  Somehow, he had got to Mum. Possibly he’d been getting to her all along. I remembered Minah telling me that Mum had gone to the Red House, looking for me. Had it been going on all this time? Had Daddy been slipping out of the Institute, working his magic on my mother, weaving her into his tapestry of lies?

  A week ago, I would have been secretly delighted. Proof finally that Daddy cared about me. That he would go to extraordinary lengths to keep me close. But the veil had been lifted now. I knew who he was. Glen Ardeer. Daddy was no magician. No saviour. He was a liar, and he was dangerous.

  As if I’d summoned him with my thoughts, a door opened at the front of the room, and Daddy came in. It had only been a week since I’d last seen him, and yet his presence knocked the breath out of me. He wore a long white robe, and his hair was neatly braided. The wild, elemental Daddy had gone. This Daddy seemed … almost holy. He stepped up onto a makeshift stage at the front of the room, and raised his arms for silence.

  ‘How could you do this?’ I hissed to Mum. ‘How could you bring me back here?’

  Confusion and a flash of doubt passed over her face. ‘You don’t understand,’ she said, tears in her eyes. ‘You are everything. I have to protect you. For your own good. For the good of us all.’

  She looked up at Daddy, and I saw trust and devotion shining in her expression.

  A slow smile spread across Daddy’s face, and he beamed down at the crowd.

  ‘This is a great day,’ he said. ‘The greatest. What we’ve worked for has finally arrived. Your hard work, your faith and trust in me will not go unrewarded. It is time. Time for the plan. The Boundless Family.’

  A ripple of excitement went through the crowd. I felt a corresponding shiver of fear. Whatever the Boundless Family was, it didn’t sound good.

  ‘I have spoken to you before of the Scintilla: the key that will unlock the true powers of sublimation, and help us shed our mortal flesh-bodies. In ancient prophecy the Scintilla is described as a beautiful gem, full of the fire of life. But prophecy is tricky and easily misunderstood. I have studied this technic for hundreds of years, but I never fully understood it until a few months ago. The Scintilla is here, with us. We have summoned it. It is time for us to rise up against the Quintus Septum and take our places as leaders of this planet.’

  The crowd broke into rapturous applause and cheers. Beside me, Mum clapped as hard as anyone, tears streaming down her face. What was happening?

  ‘The Scintilla,’ said Daddy, and everyone fell silent. He bowed his head and spoke in low, reverent tones. ‘A crimson gem, full of life’s fire.’

  Daddy paused, and my feeling of dread intensified. The whole room seemed to throb around me, pulsing with anticipation. Then Daddy raised his head.

  His eyes burned a single white line through the crowd, meeting mine, as if he’d known I was there all along. I recoiled from the strength of his gaze.

  ‘A ruby.’

  My entire body jolted into high alert, humming with fear. Everything inside me was urging me to flee. But I couldn’t move. I was pinned to the floor like a helpless creature hypnotised by the swaying head of a snake.

  ‘It’s you, Ruby.’ Daddy’s voice was barely louder than a whisper, but I heard every word. ‘You’re the Scintilla.’

  21

  The crowd parted before me, leaving me alone and exposed. On the stage, Daddy dropped to his knees, and one by one, every member of the Institute did too, bowing their heads to me as if I were a queen or god. I reached out for Mum, but she was gone, melted into the crowd, another deluded believer cowering before yet another lie.

  I tried to protest. I told them it was all bullshit. But it was like screaming into a void.

  Daddy rose to his feet and reached out a hand as if to bless me.

  ‘We must be gentle with her,’ he said. ‘She is newly born into this body, and her mind is still forming. For the first little while, her actuality will be competing with her host – our lost sister Heracleitus. But soon Heracleitus will subside, and the Scintilla will grow strong and powerful. And under her guidance, we shall all discard our mortal flesh and ascend – true sublime bodies, boundless with everlasting life.’

  People in the crowd were weeping openly, reaching up their hands towards me. At Daddy’s command, Val came forward and took me by the arms. I tried to struggle, but I was no match for his vast frame. Lib led us both towards B Block, and as we left, I looked up and saw the faintest flicker of a smile play around Daddy’s lips.

  They took me to the tiny room where I’d been previously incarcerated. It felt even smaller now, even more claustrophobic.

  Lib took a breath, as if she were about to say something. But then her eyes flicked over to Val, and her mouth closed back into a thin white line. She nodded briskly at him, and they left, closing and locking the door behind them.

  I knew from last time that shouting would do me no good. I didn’t want to wear myself out by banging on the door and screaming. This time I was smarter.
This time I wasn’t going to let him break me. I sat down on the floor, with my back against the wall, and waited.

  Time passed. Hours? I wasn’t sure. Finally the door opened and Pippa stepped inside the room, holding a bundle of red fabric, which she placed carefully on the floor before crouching down next to it and leaning her forehead down so it almost touched the damp concrete floor. I flinched when I saw the bandaged stump where her finger had once been.

  ‘Your holiness,’ she murmured. ‘Daddy has instructed me to bring you these robes, which he wishes you to wear as a symbol of his respect for you.’

  ‘Pippa,’ I said, sighing with relief. ‘You have to help me get out of here.’

  Pippa stood slowly, and looked at me. She seemed different: cowed and small. Even the shape of her was different. She looked soft and swollen. Frail, like a melting candle. Her clothes were too big, hanging loosely from her shoulders. Her eyes were dark hollows, and her hand fluttered nervously in front of her belly.

  ‘It’s just me,’ I said. ‘I’m not the Scintilla. Daddy’s trying to punish me for leaving.’

  ‘He said you would be confused. He said it would take a little time.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘What I did to you – I can’t ever make that right. But you have to listen. You have doubts, I know you do. Listen to them. Listen to your gut. Listen to me—’

  ‘Heracleitus, you have to let go. Surrender your body to the actuality of the Scintilla.’

  Pippa’s face was blank and polite, and I knew there was no getting through to her. I let her leave.

  And I waited, ignoring the pile of red fabric.

  Daddy came in sometime later.

  ‘You haven’t changed your clothes,’ he said. ‘Those toxicant rags you wear are not suitable attire for the saviour of all mankind.’

  He scooped up the bundle of red fabric and offered it to me.

  I spat on it.

  Daddy laid the bundle back down on the floor. ‘You must surrender. Stop fighting. You have been chosen for greatness.’