Bright's Light
Page 21
“Remove your glasses!”
All the PS officers tore off their dataglasses at the same time. They sighed at the same time. They fell at the same time.
As they went down, Bright saw the commander slowly raise his own shaking hand.
“I hope you’re right about this,” he said. Then he took off his glasses and joined his men.
“Me too,” said Bright.
Before the limp sprawl of PS staff began to stir, Bright took one of Grassly’s arms and Fon took the other. Bright directed the bots to move under his legs to support them. They began to carry him toward the ship, joining the Store-wide migration that was now in full swing.
36.00
They reached the Natural Experience with the last wave of migrators. Everyone moved with a shuffling, dazed, eye-rolling relentlessness. The enlightened, perhaps because there were so many of them, displayed none of the uncertainty that their earlier counterparts had. They didn’t crawl headfirst into immovable objects or head in the wrong direction. They started out crawling, but soon got up and walked. They kept pace with one another and stepped carefully over those who fell. Most of those who went down got back up, but not all. Perhaps the light was too much for them.
The migrators muttered to themselves until the mutter became a whispered chant.
“Moving on,” they said. “Time to go. Find the light.”
The sound gave Bright the creeps at first, but eventually she and Fon joined in. At least it took their minds off the difficulty of keeping Grassly’s tightly wrapped body balanced atop the two bots. “Moving on,” they muttered in time with their footsteps. “Time to go.”
They trudged through the unstaffed gate of the Natural Experience and onto the dirt path. When they reached the skinny tree, they turned left.
Pinkie’s and Peaches’ wheels weren’t made for dirt, and they spun and bogged down when they encountered rocks or ditches. Finally, Bright told Fon to stop.
“The bots are getting stuck. They’ll be able to move better without any weight on them. We’re going to have to carry him ourselves.”
Fon, her perfect face tired and streaked with sweat and dirt, seemed to wilt at the thought.
Bright looked down at Grassly, nearly obscured by layers of tape and fabric. He had not moved since he’d fallen. She refused to consider that he might be gone. She’d seen him run. No one who ran that fast could die from a few lights.
“Can we help?”
Bright started at the voice. A sensitive and a PS officer stood near Grassly’s feet, which now lay in the dirt. The officer’s face looked naked and new without his dataglasses. Bright blinked. The pairing was so unexpected. Sensitives weren’t important enough to be guarded by PS staff. Then again, no one was guarding anyone anymore.
“Yes,” she said, her voice hoarse. She and Fon hadn’t slept in nearly two days. She was probably losing collagen at a record rate, due to sleep deprivation. Her skin was going to pay the price for this experience.
The sensitive, hideous in wide-wale cords and a mustard checked sweater, and the PS officer, tall, fit, with lines etched on his forehead and cheeks where his dataglasses had pressed into his face, each picked up a leg. They swayed a bit, but kept their grip.
Together, the four of them carried Grassly across the dirt until they reached the place where the ship’s door pressed against the skin.
“Oh,” breathed the sensitive and the officer when they spied the round door, the walkway leading into the ship, and the thousands of people lined up, waiting for their turn to climb the ramp.
Their little group stood to one side of the doorway and watched the Citizens United Inside the Store file two by two into the ship. Because everyone except Grassly, Bright, and Fon was enlightened, they didn’t appear to be in any hurry. Bright, however, thought she heard noises emanating from outside the skin and wished her fellow citizens would pick up the pace a little. She’d never imagined that there were so many of them!
When, finally, the end of the orderly line reached them, they fell in behind the last pair, two productives from Nutri Enrichments who smelled like chalk. As they reached the ramp, a loud sucking noise arose, as though a giant with too much saliva was trying to keep it in his mouth.
“Hurry!” said Bright.
Movement on her right caught her eye, and she saw a gap open between the skin and the frame of the door. Dust swirled on the ground before being sucked outside the skin, and a grey-red cloud seeped inside.
She felt a tug on her arm. She looked down at Grassly, who calmly met her eyes with his own. He pulled his arm away and because she was surprised, she let it go. With great effort, he mimed putting his hand over his nose and mouth.
She nodded.
“Cover your mouths! And don’t breathe!” she yelled. The sucking noise grew even louder. The fury of Earth’s poisoned atmosphere was on its way inside the Store.
They were near the top of the ramp when someone inside screamed, “Close the door!”
For a split second, Bright thought the round door would slam shut in front of them. They would be left behind.
“Wait!” she yelled, trying not to take in any air.
“Wait! Wait for everyone!” the cry sounded all around the ship, from hundreds of mouths.
“Wait for everyone!”
Then Bright and Fon and Grassly and the sensitive and the PS officer were inside, and the door of the ship winked shut.
Fon and Bright lowered Grassly gently to the floor. The sensitive staggered away, clearly unused to physical labour. The PS officer had a coating of red dust on his face. He wiped at it, then fell sideways. He would have crashed to the floor, but a gamer and a productive caught him.
When she had caught her breath, Bright looked around the ship she’d thought was the House of It. The light grey space was vast, and yet somehow also cozy. It seemed to expand to fit the thousands of people who now stood and sat inside. Calm and peace emanated from every surface, and the lighting did great things for everyone’s skin tone.
A word popped into her head: “Heaven.” She had no idea what it meant, but it seemed to fit.
Bright looked down at Grassly.
“We better cut him out of that suit,” said Fon. “His skin is going to need major intervention. Luckily, I’m amazing at skin care.”
“That is lucky,” agreed Bright.
Pinkie and Peaches, who’d beetled onto the ship just in front of Bright and Fon, extended their shears and began to cut carefully through the layers of tape that bound Grassly. Pinkie hardly nicked him at all.
Bright realized that she felt as excited to see Grassly emerge from his cocoon as she ever had to receive a new piece of gear. Maybe even more excited.
“Hey, babe,” said a low voice in her ear.
She started. Slater was leaning in so close that she grazed his cheek with her nose when she turned her head.
“Whoa,” he said. “Careful there! My skin’s just starting to look good again.”
Bright looked at him carefully. He did look good. Younger. More rested.
“I’ve been working out,” he continued. “You want to feel my abs?”
“Not really,” said Bright. Instead, she got to her knees and began to work Grassly’s limbs free.
“I’ll feel your abs!” said Fon. “I love abs!”
When Bright pulled the helmet from Grassly’s head, she saw that his burn was more severe than she’d thought. She could feel heat radiating from him.
She held out a hand and Pinkie was ready with a soothing cloth, which all dressing-room bots kept in great abundance in their storage compartments.
Bright put the cloth to Grassly’s cheek. He gasped. He was alive.
“Red is a good colour on you,” she said.
“It will be some time before I’m well enough to drive.”
She moved the cloth to his forearm, which was even more badly burned than his face.
“So you’re going to have to get us out of here,” he said.
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Bright’s hand froze momentarily, then she kept applying soothing lotion to the red skin.
“If you move me over near the pilot’s seat, I’ll show you how to execute the launch function.”
“Okay,” said Bright. “I can do that.”
Grassly gave another little gasp when Pinkie and Peaches dabbed at him with more soothing cloths.
“When I’m better, and before you go to sleep for the trip, is there any way you could teach me how to do the slip slide with a triple twist?” he asked.
Bright gave him an appraising look. “I think I can do that,” she said. “If you work really hard.”
“Obviously, if you want any help with, like, lats or abs, I’m your guy,” said Slater. “But I don’t drive, in case you were thinking of asking me to handle that part of things.”
Fon’s voice interrupted them. “The House of It is really different than I thought it would be,” she said. “But it’s cool. I think I’m going to like it here.” She went back to admiring Slater’s abs, and he assured her that, in spite of her skin’s current condition, her underlying fundamentals were sound, gorgeousness-wise.
Grassly smiled, and so did Bright.
Ten minutes later, Bright sat in the pilot’s seat of the Sankalpa, and Grassly told her which buttons to hit, in which order. The thousands of survivors from inside the Store stood at the banks of windows and watched as the ship pulled away from the partially detached skin. The high winds caught the membrane and tore it wide open like a vast black curtain. As the ship retreated, the survivors remained silent, watching the wild Earth rip the covering from their last habitation. The buildings stood twinkling for a few moments, then were overtaken by the swirling grey and red storm.
At Grassly’s directive, Bright pressed the code that caused the Sankalpa to rise. Soon, the Store was completely obscured by the dust clouds, and shortly after that, the Earth herself was just a brilliant orb in the vast blackness.
About the Author
SUSAN JUBY is the author of the critically acclaimed YA novels Getting the Girl and Another Kind of Cowboy, as well as the bestselling Alice series (Alice, I Think; Miss Smithers; Alice MacLeod, Realist at Last) and a novel for adults, The Woefield Poultry Collective. She holds a master’s degree in publishing. Susan lives on Vancouver Island with her husband, James, and their dog, who prefers to remain anonymous. Visit her online at susanjuby.com.
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Praise For Susan Juby
“Juby endows her endearing characters with quirky, comedic voices and original backgrounds.”
KIRKUS REVIEWS on Getting the Girl (starred review) “Susan Juby is a marvel. Wise, witty, and full of heart, her writing draws you in and won’t let go. And just when you think it can’t get any better, it does.” MEG CABOT, author of the Princess Diaries series, on The Woefield Poultry Collective
Credits
AUTHOR PHOTO BY DELGADO PHOTOGRAPHY
COVER DESIGN BY GREG TABOR
Copyright
Bright’s Light
Copyright © 2012 by Susan Juby
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EPub Edition © JULY 2012 ISBN: 978-1-443-41449-4
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