The Strange

by Masha du Toit

  “Can Danger feel it?” Isabeau looked at the gardag, who was watching Ndlela with interest.

  “He can.” Tomas reached out a hand and ruffled Danger’s neck fur where it showed in a gap between his armour plates. “You don’t mind, do you boy?”

  Ndlela gave a shudder. “Ah!” He gasped. “I felt that. That feels weird!” His hands rose to his own neck, and then to his ears, as if he wanted to cover them. “And the sounds— Everything is like—” He gasped again, then his fingers flew to his temples and he loosened the diadem and pulled it off. “Wow.” His breath came fast, and his shook his head like a swimmer surfacing. “That’s intense.”

  “Can I try?” Isabeau reached for the diadem. “Please?”

  Tomas laughed at her evident excitement. “Sure. Here.”

  Isabeau expected the diadem to be cold, or to tingle or spark against her skin, but she hardly felt anything as Tomas fitted it round the back of her head above her ears. Once it was in place it contracted a little and pulsed softy, but the sensation was so slight it might have been her imagination.

  “Close your eyes,” Tomas said. “Makes it easier.”

  Isabeau wobbled but resisted the urge to grab Tomas’s arm to steady herself. What she saw didn’t match what she felt, and that was deeply disorientating.

  She closed her eyes and sat back, taking a deep breath and letting it out. It felt as if she were opening her eyes and opening—opening her ears.

  The sounds were almost too much. Her body, her heartbeat, the steady rhythm of her breathing, the rush of her blood. The way the air extended around her, the colours that— No, those weren’t colours, those were scents.

  She held her hands over her ears, wanting to dim the crystal clarity of the sound, but also wanting to hear. The world tilted, and her eyes flew open. Danger was looking at her and while she could see him she could also see, like a vivid memory, another face with startled eyes staring out above hands that covered her mouth.

  That’s me.

  Isabeau shut her eyes.

  “Want to take it off?”

  Tomas’s voice was recognisably his but she could hear every click of tongue on palette, of breath passing through teeth, lips brushing against lips as he spoke.

  She nodded, not ready to hear her own voice yet.

  The sensations ceased as soon as the diadem was withdrawn from her head.

  “Ugh!” A shudder took her whole body and she scrubbed her hands over her face. “Wow.” Both Tomas and Ndlela were grinning at her. “That was amazing.”

  “Intense, nê?” Tomas slipped the diadem back onto his own head. “You get used to it. They say linking with the implant is hectic. Full-body experience. I’ve heard stories— People getting hooked on the rush of it. And you get withdrawal afterwards, if you’re not trained to handle it.”

  Isabeau and Ndlela were fascinated.

  “Elke told me she can mind-link to Meisje even when things are sinister,” said Ndlela, but Tomas shook his head. “Not this thing. It must have some electronic bits for making the link. Doesn’t work in sinister phase.”

  “Hey.” They all looked up to see Elke coming down the walkway between the roosts, Meisje at her heel. “Tomas sharing the diadem?” She smiled as she drew level with them, but she looked tired. “Listen, Tomas, sorry to do this, but we need you back at work again after all.”

  “Hey, Elke!” It was Diesel, standing in the cubby door. “Come up and join us. We have some things to sort out.”

  “Sorry, can’t.” Elke looked up at her friend. “Dolly wants to recruit a whole bunch of volunteer peacekeepers to help us keep a lid on things.”

  Diesel looked put out. “You sure? It won’t take long, we need to figure out—”

  But Elke shook her head. “Sorry. Listen, I can join you in the cafeteria for supper. Talk then, okay?”

  “Hm,” said Diesel.

  Tomas was on his feet, ready to go, but Elke held up a hand for him to wait. “Listen,” she said to Diesel. “These two.” She indicated Isabeau and Ndlela. “I can’t leave Tomas to look after them, and I need Meisje too. I don’t like leaving them out here by themselves. Things are calm right now but you never know.”

  “Oh. Right.” Diesel looked glumly at the two children. “I guess we can go over to my quarters. More room there for everyone.”

  ¤¤¤

  It was late by the time Elke finished for the day. She’d spent most of her time helping Dolly organise the new volunteers, peacekeepers who would patrol the Eye to prevent any unrest that might ignite under the stresses of the quarantine regulations.

  The quarantine message had been repeated many times throughout the day. The Eye was in a sinister phase, so the announcements had to be called out by roller-skated messengers who clattered hand-bells between each repeat and responded to all attempts to heckle them with eloquently obscene hand gestures.

  The new regulations included a curfew for all but essential maintenance personnel and peacekeepers, as well as a code of conduct to prevent the spread of misinformation and panic.

  Elke had been tempted to go patrolling with the first group of peacekeepers, but Dolly wouldn’t let her. “They have to cope by themselves,” she’d said.

  Now, Elke sat on the doorstep of the office, with Meisje at her side. The gardag turned her head alertly, and a few moments later, Kiran appeared walking down the corridor towards them.

  “Hey,” Kiran said. “You look knackered. Been a tough day?”

  Elke gave a half laugh, half groan, and let her head tilt back against the door behind her. “I’m done. I don’t think I can even get up from here.”

  Kiran held out a hand, and Elke let Kiran pull her to her feet. For a moment she was close enough to breathe Kiran’s scent—the damp green smell of the algae soaked into her overalls, fresh sweat, and a lemony undertone of soap.

  “Buy you a drink?” Kiran looked tired too, but her eyes retained a glint of humour. “You look like you could do with one.”

  ¤¤¤

  Kiran took Elke to a bar down in Works level, little more than a hole in the wall with some benches nearby. A group of mechs were already there, chatting and laughing. They acknowledged Kiran with raised hands and nods.

  “Appletine, pimp-soda, red-ratter.” Elke squinted up at the hand-lettered list of drinks above the counter. “Those I know. But algae beer? Really?”

  “You can read strangeside?” Kiran rapped the counter to attract the barman’s attention.

  “Just a little. And that’s more of an Eye-creole, isn’t it?”

  “Pretty much.” Kiran nodded at the barman, who had appeared, blinking and half asleep. “Hey, Shai.” She spoke rapidly in strangeside, then glanced at Elke. “What are you having?”

  “You pick for me.”

  Kiran grinned. “Really? You sure?” She spoke a few more words to the barman and passed him a few chits. “On me,” she said before Elke could do more than open her mouth.

  The drinks, when they came, were in slender, murky green bottles. Elke and Kiran carried them to a bench at the far side of the space, away from the group of mechs.

  As they sat, Meisje bumped Elke’s knee and glanced over at a row of air duct vents.

  “Sure,” said Elke. “You go ahead.”

  The gardag trotted off and stationed herself in a shadowy corner near the vents where all that could be seen of her was the outline of one alert ear and a gleaming eye.

  “It’s those little birds,” Elke explained, when Kiran gave her a questioning look. “Smarachts. She’s a bit obsessed with them. They nest in those ducts.”

  “She hunts them?”

  “No, she just watches them.” Elke shifted along the bench to make space for Kiran. “Algae beer,” she said, looking dubiously at her drink. “Right?”

  “You never had any?” Kiran filled her own glass, lifting the bottle expertly as she poured. The beer was sea-green and topped with a yellow-tinged foam that looked exactly like ocean scum. “Pour for you?�
�

  “Yes, please.” Elke watched as Kiran poured her drink. “I’d have thought you’d be sick of algae by now, the job you do.”

  “Try it.” Kiran handed her the glass.

  Elke sniffed the beer. It smelled like a healthy aquarium, or one of Mack Jack’s bottle gardens, a fresh, lively smell. The taste, when she sipped it, was surprisingly subtle—mountain water with just a touch of a bite to it.

  “Nice,” she said, wiping the foam from her lips. She lowered the bottle and held it in her lap, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.

  “Don’t drink it all at once, now,” Kiran said with a touch of irony.

  Elke nodded, but didn’t respond.

  The speaker above them crackled into life, then abruptly cut off again. Elke realised that she was tapping her foot and stilled it self-consciously. She dragged her thoughts back to the present. “You must have had a pretty tough day too,” she said. “From what I saw, you techs were run off your feet today.”

  Kiran wrinkled her nose. “Mijnheer Sparks made us test and retest every damn system from the roots up. I spent most of the day hip-high in the sump room.” Her voice changed to a scratchy monotone. “‘Everything must be self-sufficient!”

  Elke smiled, delighted. Kiran’s posture and voice evoked the small, grumpy man with uncanny precision.

  “He’s right, though.” Kiran relaxed back into her own poised manner. “We have no margin of error if any of the systems fail.” She took a long swallow of beer. “But something’s bugging you. Wanna talk about it?”

  “How can you tell?”

  Kiran shrugged. “You’re as uneasy as a slug on a hotplate.”

  Elke couldn’t help laughing at this. “It’s not that bad.” She pulled an envelope from her pocket. “This arrived before the quarantine, but I only got ’round to reading it today.”

  “That looks pretty official,” Kiran nodded at the envelope. “From realside?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, what’s it say?”

  Elke turned the envelope over and smoothed the folded edge.

  “Spit it out. You’ll feel better.”

  “Okay. You’re right, but it takes a bit of explanation.” Elke took a sip of beer as she got her thoughts in order. “So— A few months ago, I had to go out into the Real.”

  “To capture an entire gang of bio-smugglers,” said Kiran. “Heard all about it.”

  “You did?”

  “Sure. That whole thing with Jinan Meer. Is this about that?”

  “Yes. Well, sort of.” Elke took another sip of beer and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “One of the people I dealt with was a woman called Missy Cloete. I knew her way back when I was a teen. What’s it now? More than twenty years ago.”

  “Oh?”

  “I was in the Rent, in those days.” Elke leaned back against the wall. The beer was definitely having an effect—her body was gradually relaxing. “I was a stupid and young. I thought the eco gangs were the best, and the Rent the best of them all. Out in the Vaal, you ever been there?”

  “Not really,” said Kiran. “I’ve been to Kaapstadt, of course, but the only parts of the Real I’ve been to are all under the sea.”

  “Patrolling with the Marine Guard. I forgot about that.” Elke nodded. “The Vaal’s a beautiful place. We were protecting the rhinos still left there. Hunting the hunters.

  “Missy Cloete was one of my unit. Well anyway, things went wrong and our group got ambushed by the cops.” Elke grimaced at the memory. “I was young—just a teenager, so they worked out a deal for me. Sent me to one of those rehabilitation schools.”

  Kiran breath hissed softly between her teeth but she didn’t interrupt.

  “The others all got sentenced to hard labour. Missy Cloete tried to kill herself but failed. She recovered and was sent off with all the rest. The plastic mines.”

  “On the reefs,” said Kiran. “Might as well get a death sentence, from what I’ve heard.”

  “Hmm,” said Elke. “So anyway, when I was out on the Muara I ran into Missy again. Turns out all these years she’s been convinced that I was the one who betrayed our gang to the cops. According to her, the ambush was my fault.” She shrugged. “I can sort of see why she’d think that, seeing as I was the only one not sent to the plastic mines. Must have seemed like I cut a deal.”

  “So she had it in for you.”

  “That’s right. She was hell-bent on killing me. Got hold of a friend of mine and tried to use her to lure me into a trap.”

  “But she was arrested with the rest of that gang, wasn’t she, in the end?” said Kiran. “All that lot are in prison now, or dead.”

  “That’s what I thought, till I got this.” Elke opened the envelope. “This is from Hoofdinspecteur Ncita. He just found out that Missy Cloete got sprung from prison by mistake.”

  “She got what?”

  “She’s gone.” Elke unfolded the note. “I don’t know if somebody arranged it, or if it was just a mix-up, but she’s been released. Ncita was only notified a few days ago but she’s been out for more than three months.”

  “Shit.”

  “You can say that again. Ncita thinks it might be some attempt to stop her testifying in the trial.”

  “Jinan Meer’s trial?”

  “Exactly. Missy Cloete is an important witness.”

  “If that case fails, Meer might get away with just a slap on the wrist.” Kiran gave Elke a thoughtful look. “But that’s not what’s got you all knotted up in a tangle, is it?”

  “I don’t know.” Elke hunched her shoulders uneasily. “I have this stupid— No. I’m just being paranoid.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  Elke looked at Kiran. It was strange to think that it was only a day or so since she’d met this woman.

  “I can do better than that,” she said. “I can show you.”

  ¤¤¤

  “My turn,” said Isabeau.

  Ndlela pulled the diadem from his head, grimacing as it released. “It’s giving me a headache anyway,” he said. “You go ahead.”

  “You don’t mind?” Noor looked at Tomas.

  Tomas shook his head and smiled. “It’s cool.”

  They were in the cafeteria, watching the supper crowd streaming in to fill the many tables. Things were sinister, so no music played from the speakers, but somebody had set up an impromptu stage at the far end by pushing some tables together and a young woman was up there now, singing and drumming. Every now and then the crowd would join in at a chorus, thumping at the tables with fists and cutlery. Isabeau wished she understood the words— they had a compelling rhythm to them, angry and defiant.

  Tomas helped Isabeau adjust the diadem and smiled down at Danger, who was watching her eagerly, his bushy tail whacking a chair. “Look at this guy,” Tomas said. “He needs a walk. Been sitting around all day. You want to take him for a bit of a stroll?”

  Isabeau hesitated, fingers on her temples, feeling the unfamiliar shape of the diadem settling there.

  “You sure she can handle that?” Noor looked worried. “Wearing that thing and walking at the same time?”

  “It’s actually easier, when you’re both moving. You and the gardag, I mean.” Tomas gave Noor a reassuring grin. “Don’t worry. I won’t let her go out of my sight. And Danger will look after her.” He turned to the gardag. “You guys stay here in the cafeteria, right, boy?”

  Danger gave a loud bark that made several people look over at them, and his tail sped up, thumping an urgent rhythm.

  Over at the far side of the hall the woman came to the end of her song and everybody cheered and clapped. Isabeau stood for a moment, overwhelmed as the sound foamed around her.

  So this is what it sounds like to Danger.

  She’d assumed everything would be louder, but it wasn’t exactly that. Everything was somehow crisper, as if she could make out each individual hand clap and shouting voice, pin-point the position of each sound in relation to herself. It made her dizzy
.

  “Off you go.” Tomas gave her a shove. “Get walking. That helps.”

  Isabeau took a few uncertain steps with Danger close beside her, pressing against her leg.

  It was true. Somehow, walking helped steady her. It was as if she was being tuned, her link with the gardag coming into focus and settling into a more comfortable groove. She rested her fingertips on Danger’s armoured shoulder, and that helped even more.

  Scent assailed her. Food smells, mostly. Potent, vivid, luscious smears of scent tugged at her, and saliva pooled in her mouth in response.

  A voice among the many voices caught her attention—caught Danger’s attention, and scents, a tripled strand of scent, all three oddly familiar. Isabeau, through Danger’s eyes, saw three figures pushing through the crowd at the cafeteria entrance.

  Elke, Meisje and Kiran.

  She watched, surprised, as instead of coming towards their table the three of them made their way to a door near the cafeteria kitchens. It was covered in signs in several scripts and languages, one of which clearly stated No Entry. Staff Only in big red letters.

  They stepped through and the door swung shut behind them.

  What’s that about?

  Intrigued, Isabeau headed for the door. Danger was perfectly willing to follow her. Close to, Isabeau realised that the wall in which the door was set was only a thin partition. She looked at it significantly and Danger understood. He turned his head to the wall, both ears pricked.

  At first, all they could hear was the confused noise of all the voices, bangs, scrapes, and laughter that filled the cafeteria. Isabeau tried to conjure Elke’s voice from memory. Her gardag-linked senses responded, and the voices beyond the wall came gradually into focus.

  “See this? It opens into a shaft that reaches all the way to the outer shell. That’s how she got in.”

  “What’s been taken?” That was Kiran, a little more muffled as if she was facing away. Isabeau could picture their position in relation to one another almost as clearly as if she could see them.