Oh, right. Sorry. So anyway, Bethany-Anne makes this kind of a sound that is, you know, not quite a scream, and not a choke exactly, but the kind of sound where you just know something is seriously up. So Todd pushes her aside and sticks his head to the glass and he’s just kind of glued there, even though Mrs. Harness is already half way back from the door and shouting at him to “get down this second.” So the rest of us start crowding in, in the hopes of a quick glimpse before Mrs. Harness gets there, and the crowding slows her down quite a bit, so most of us are able to get an okay look at it, sitting right out there in the rink.
Then Mrs. Harness orders everyone to the far wall, and she starts tipping tables over and telling everyone to get into crash position behind their desks; only that is so obviously lame! It just makes no sense to me. It’s like, well, if it’s going to blow, what exactly do you expect a set of shutters and a couple of tipped over student desks to do about it? We looked pathetic. I didn’t want people seeing me like that. Because by now half the kids have their cells out and are phoning EMS, or their folks; and the other half are uploading video of the first half, who are cowering there like morons.
And we were already way beyond “locked door” as the appropriate response here. Because if they’ve got interstellar travel down, a locked door is probably not going to deter them. So either we should all be moving out the opposite exit as fast as our feet could carry us, or we should just relax and go greet our new masters from Megnar 7, or wherever.
So I go over to the fire exit and start leaning on the crashbar. Casual, you know? Not making a production of it? Like I was just thinking maybe of leaning out for a quick look. But I had already figured it as pretty safe.
Well, no, I didn’t mean “safe” exactly. Obviously, this was not a normal situation. I understand your point there. I’m just saying that if something were going to explode, it probably would have done that already, when it came down. But none us had even heard a thing. And I know for sure I had my earbuds out when it must have come down. Because it certainly hadn’t been there at break, and I hadn’t exactly been in a hurry to tune in to Mrs. Harness putting that poor frog down—simulated or not—so my ears were still naked right up to Mr. Sheckley’s announcement. I definitely would have heard something if that had been a crash out there. So if wasn’t a crash, then no “kaboom,” right?
Oh. I didn’t know that. Well, I’m just telling you what I was thinking at the time. Just let me finish here, or I’m going to get all jumbled up. So I’m saying, I didn’t think we were in any danger from the ship aspect of it. I mean, it pretty much looked like it had landed there in one piece as intended.
But on the other hand, if I were flying around the galaxy, and I wanted to put down on Earth, the hockey rink of Allan Wilson Middle School would not necessarily be my first choice, you know? So either it was some kind of mistake or accident, or emergency landing kind of deal; or, this was part of like a much larger fleet, and they were landing everywhere with so many ships that there was even one to spare for Prairie Creek. And if that were the case—well, like I said, time to meet our new masters, and here’s hoping they aren’t into eating our brains.
But I figured, you have interstellar flight, you probably have to be like some kind of way advanced civilization, and that probably implies a certain level of vegetarianism when it comes to intelligent species. Assuming that we qualify.
So, I figured, probably they were having some kind of problem, and the polite thing—the civilized thing to do—would be for someone to go and ask, you know, if they needed anything.
So I am starting to lean on the crashbar a little harder, when I hear this clop clop clop coming up fast behind me, which I know to be Sarah’s clogs without having to turn around, so I wait a second for her to get there, and she whispers, “What are you doing?” only, you know, her tone is more like, “What, are you crazy?!” And so I say, “I figure they’re probably not here to eat our brains” and she says, “Well, duh. But what about radiation?”
So I ease up on the crashbar again, because this thought has given me pause. This is precisely why Sarah is my best friend. Because more than once she has thought of something that I have maybe missed. “An advanced civilization,” I said, working it through with her, but still whispering so as not to attract Mrs. Harness’s attention, “would probably include safety regulations. With regard to acceptable levels of radiation.”
“Well, yeah” Sara whispers back, “But the number one safety rule would be, ‘no landing on Earth’ and the second rule would be, ‘no landing in school hockey rinks.’ So probably something went wrong already.”
I see her point. So I ask, “Okay, maybe radiation. What then?”
And she says, “Shielding or distance. Assuming always we haven’t already taken a fatal dose.”
I look over at everybody still huddled behind their desks and kind of nod in that direction, and ask, “Any good?”
“Maybe if we covered the desks in layers of aluminum foil from the cafeteria,” Sarah tells me, “but wood is useless.”
“Distance?” I ask her.
“Levels decrease with the square of the distance.”
“My basement?”
She nodded. “We could still see okay from there, but would be nearly three times further away. Radiation would be only a tenth whatever it is here. And cement is good.”
Well, I don’t know; they never said. I’m just telling you what Sarah told me.
So then I looked over to where Mrs. Harness was still under her desk, and there was no way she was going to unlock the door to the hallway. Mrs. Harness is not a half-bad teacher, but she is not one for taking initiative. She sticks pretty much to the curriculum, whether simulated dissections make sense or not. So if Mr. Sheckley had called for a lockdown, we were going to stay locked in until the “all-clear.”
“Okay,” I said, “we make a run for my house,” and slammed my elbow into the crashbar. I saw Mrs. Harness bang her head when the exit alarm went off, but we were out and pelting along the side of the school before she could even crawl out from under her desk. I was pretty much just focused on making it around the corner of the school, and could hear the clacking of Sarah’s clogs keeping up with me, so I didn’t look back at all, and I didn’t immediately recognize that the grinding sound was the saucer splitting opening, and so neither of us saw the ramp coming out of it until it was nearly on top of us.
So I hit the brakes and pull back, but Sarah plows into me and kind of knocks me, and I’m on the ramp, teetering, and Sarah’s all, “What are you doing?!” and I’m looking back at her in disbelief because it’s not my fault I’m on the ramp, she’s the one who knocked me, but then it penetrates that they’ve opened up and I’m thinking, “wait” and I point at the ramp and say, “No radiation!” and Sarah’s looking at me, and I explain that they wouldn’t open up if there was a radiation leak or whatever, and Sarah’s all, “You don’t know that! Maybe they’re just not affected by it!” But I figure, they’re kind of inviting us in, and that wouldn’t make sense if the radiation was going to kill us, so it’s gotta be okay.
I look back at the school and I notice the shutters are like a quarter of the way up in Ms. Rossiter’s class, and there are like forty arms sticking cells out the bottom, filming me and Sarah, waiting to see what we do. Or whether something comes out with a deathray or whatever. So I take like maybe half a step up the ramp, when Sarah shouts, “Viruses!” and I pause again, but just for a second this time, because I remember Mrs. Harness telling us how our dogs don’t catch our colds and vice versa, and dogs are practically family compared to whatever is in there, so I just shake my head, and say “I doubt we’re that compatible” and keep going. And Sarah does this exasperated little stomp with her clogs, and says, “You don’t know that!” So I stop, because she’s not wrong. But I tell her, “They’ve got the ship, so I’m guessing they’re brainy enough to have thought it all through.” Only she says, “You can’t know that!” again. And sh
e’s right of course, but I just kind of shrug, because, hey, you can never know. Not completely, right?
So we’re standing, looking at each other, and Sarah says, kind of quiet, “You can’t go in there. It would be crazy.” Then I just say, “I have a plan,” and start going up the ramp again. So Sarah runs after me with her clogs clanging on the ramp, and catches up and asks, “What’s the plan?” And I explain, “I’m not going in. I’m stopping halfway up. That way, they’ll have to come out and we’ll meet halfway.” And Sarah says, “That’s your plan?” and I say, “Yes,” and she says, “That’s it? That’s not a plan!” And I say, “No, this will work. Because it shows willing, and because, you know, meeting halfway is what you do!” And Sarah shouts, “What do you mean, ‘That’s what you do?’ What you do is call out the Army and the Air Force!” And I have to stop and give Sarah “The Look,” because, come on! She’s been here for like her whole life, almost. “Sarah! That’s maybe how Americans do it, or maybe your Dad when he was an Air Force Captain back in the Bangladesh, but for crying out loud, you’re as Canadian as me. Meeting ‘halfway’ is how Canadians do it!” And then Sarah gives me “The Look” back and says, “You’re the one who told me Canadians don’t change the lightbulb, they wait for the government to do it.” And I wave my arm at the school where all the teachers are hunkered down and say, “Do you see the government anywhere? Look, if they”—I’m pointing up the ramp here—“If they wanted the Army and Air Force and diplomats and world leaders, they would have landed in front of the White House; if they land in back of Allan Wilson Middle School, it’s because they just want to do some repairs, maybe, or get directions, or whatever, but the appropriate response is to be neighbourly and offer to help them out, without making a huge deal out of it!”
So then I noticed Sarah isn’t saying anything and is looking kind of stressed, so I say, “Sarah?” Because now I’m thinking I was maybe out of line implying she wasn’t being Canadian enough. Because she can be sensitive about that: like the time Drew said he thought she looked like “a foreign princess” in her blue sari with the diamonds; he just meant she looked exotic, but things never come out quite right when Drew says them, and Sara had been totally slammed he’d said “foreign.” But it wasn’t about that this time. She looks at me and says, “So the plan is we only go halfway up, right?” And I say, “That’s the plan,” and Sarah says, “And we stopped about a third of the way up to have this little chat, right?” And right away I get it, because we’re already way past the halfway mark, and getting closer to the top every second, even though we’ve stopped walking, so I just grab her arm and yell, “Run” and we take off for the bottom of the ramp.
The one thing Sarah and I hate most about school is the Ding Test. You know the one? Where this bell goes “Ding” and you have to keep running as many laps as you can before the next “Ding.” It’s so stupid and demeaning. With Sarah’s lungs and my ankles, it’s just torture. And what’s it for, exactly? When do you ever need to run like that and keep running until you actually fall down from exhaustion?
That’s what I was thinking as we ran for it and kept running and running, as hard as we could, but didn’t seem to be making any progress towards the bottom. But instead of a “ding,” there was this sort of collective groan from the school windows as Sarah started to flag.
Then the fire exit to Mrs. Harness’s room crashes open, and Justin and Drew came pounding out. Todd came out too, but just far enough to grab the door and drag it closed again. I didn’t know what they were doing at first, and wanted to warn them away, but I didn’t have the breath or the nerve to stop running; and frankly, if they were stupid enough to come out when they saw us coming back, that was their own look out.
But after a second, I realized they were headed for the ramp and for us.
Say what you want, but those guys can run. They hit the ramp in a blur, and were racing up to meet us fast, faster than any relay race I’ve ever seen them do, and I was worried for a second that they were going to crash right into us as we were trying to get away—only that never happened. Sarah and I kept running down at best speed, and they were racing up—I mean, really sprinting it!—but somehow the distance between us didn’t shrink at all. On the contrary, space started to slowly expand, stretching out between us, until it became obvious that we were never going to reach each other.
Justin must have seen it too, because he started undoing his belt; he almost stumbled yanking it out while still running, head down and coming on like a fullback, and then flung it at me. I kinda ducked at first, but on his second throw I got what he was doing and I grabbed for it. I caught it on the third throw, by sort of lunging at it like in volleyball, and then I was tumbling past Justin, and Justin was shooting past me up the ramp.
I was still holding the belt with Justin on the other end, so kind of pivoted to get myself up and standing again, dug in my heels, and yanked him back towards me, now that I was closer to the bottom of the ramp than he was; he spun around and crashed into Sarah and Drew, who were both behind me, which left me disoriented because Sarah had been higher up the ramp and Drew lower, so I couldn’t figure out how any of that was happening. Then I saw that we were all of us very nearly at the top, and moving inside, but before I could shout a warning, Justin was pulling me with the belt towards the edge, and shouted “Jump!”
But it’s way too late, and next thing we know, we’re all inside.
Justin and I jumping? Yeah, we saw that too. Which was pretty weird for us, but we were already inside by then, so we were kind of preoccupied with that. It was only later that they explained it was just the 4% of us that reacted fast enough that had jumped. But I remember thinking at the time, man, that must have hurt! Because we were pretty high up by then, I’m telling you!
So anyway, we’re inside and right away it’s just like that movie—the original, I mean, not the remake—because everything is this kind of gloomy black and white, and it’s kind of hard to make anything out, and I’m like half expecting Gort to step out of the shadows; but of course it wasn’t like that at all, once we got the goggles.
Sure they gave us goggles. Why wouldn’t they? Because, as I’m trying to explain, everything is virtual with them, so without the colours, it’s just blank walls. Nothing to see at all. Like trying to watch TV with the picture off. You’ve got to have the goggles.
To see the colours. Because our eyes don’t see in the same range, and the goggles adjust for that.
I’m not sure exactly. Early that first day, sometime. Within a couple of hours, I guess. Because things only started to make sense once we got the goggles and could see what’s going on.
Well, that’s a lot harder to judge. I mean, it’s not like they had a big clock up anywhere. Oh, and our watches didn’t work. Sarah and Drew both had watches on, but they were both frozen at 2:19. The watches, I mean, not Sarah and Drew. Same with Justin and my cells. And you can’t phone out, though I guess that’s obvious. So, I’d have to guess a couple of days. Four maybe. Though now you come to say it, it’s funny, because we never got hungry or had to sleep or anything.
Yeah, yeah! That’s it! That’s exactly what they said: “Subjectivity of time.” Something about how you “can’t master faster than light travel without first mastering the subjectivity of time.” I don’t pretend to get all that; Sarah’s the science geek.
Well, no, not “said.” I know I said “said,” but mostly it was writing. On the walls. Texting, you know? Sarah says she thinks they’re deaf because they never tried talking to us, so maybe they don’t use sound that way? But then I said they must be blind too, because they never used pictures either, but Drew said that was really stupid. Anyway, it became obvious pretty early on that they were asking if we wanted to go with them. Like be exchange students. And from the second they said it, I was beside myself with indecision. Because part of me really really wanted to. I mean, you know, the whole “boldly go where none have gone before” thing, right? That’s pretty wild!
But of course, another part of me wanted to stay right here. Keep my regular life. Go for the theatre, instead. Because Mr. Bartain says I have a real shot. A real shot. And I’ve worked hard for that. And I’d miss Kasia, my little sister. And my folks.
But then I’d think, I would not miss Allan Wilson Middle School. Okay, Mr. Bartain, maybe. But seriously, I’ve got what, another year of middle school and another three of high school and then who knows how many of university? I think my Dad lived his whole life practically before he finally graduated. I wouldn’t have to do any of that. I could start my life now; I could leave with them now, and have the adventure of a lifetime; of a hundred lifetimes!
But then I’d realize I didn’t have Bear-Bear and Socks with me, and how could I stand to leave them behind? And it would like, kill mom. Dad would get it, sort of: me leaving in a saucer would be cool for him. But he’d probably say that out loud, and then mom would kill him!
I wasn’t even clear if we got to say “goodbye” or anything, because when they tried to explain that bit, it wasn’t very clear at first. I couldn’t imagine what my folks would think, what my little sister would think, if they saw me get in the saucer, and the saucer took off, and then not knowing if I was okay. I couldn’t do that to them. But then, they said that wouldn’t be an issue, and I shouldn’t worry about that when I made my final decision, so then I’d flip again.
I kept going back and forth, and every time I did, I’d end up arguing with myself again. That part was definitely weird. Though also strangely reassuring. You really get to know yourself, to understand what it is you really want when you have to work through a decision like that. A life-changing decision.
I think Sarah got it faster than the rest of us. What it would really mean. Because her folks had to make that decision coming to Canada.
And then there was the whole Justin thing. A lot of Justin really wanted to go, but only if I would go with him. That really kind of freaked me. Because, I had just never thought of Justin that way before. So at some point we noticed we were talking about Justin almost as much as about the decision, and I said, “Look, Justin is not the question. Justin stays or goes, but either way, he’s going to be there so we can worry about that another time; there will be lots of opportunities to sort out how I feel about Justin later. The only question is: what do I want to do.” I have to say, I was a little proud of myself for saying that, because I could hear my mom always telling me, you should never make a decision based just on what some boy wants. And this was a perfect example of that. So I dug around and found some receipts in my jacket pocket, and a pen, and used the scraps to write down my decision, and I told Justin to write down his, and the others, so that we all made our own decision without worrying about what the others were planning. And that made it a bit scarier, not knowing if anyone was coming with you, or if you stayed behind, whether they would all go off on an adventure without you. But that was the only way to be sure it was our own, independent choice.
Imaginarium: The Best Canadian Speculative Writing Page 6
