Radio Sphere (7 page)

“You followed me to give me that?”

“Saraswati gave me them to share with you. She told me you were here and would need help.”

“This is food?” I knew I shouldn’t easily trust my stalker and attacker.

Did I have it in me to kill him if I needed to?

“Totally natural, and clean, and present.”

I was hungry. I’d never seen a real red food, can you imagine, eating red food?

His extended arm place an apple before my eyes as I collapsed to the ground with a huff.

“I don’t want anything from you. Keep back.” I limply held the torch pointed in his general direction— it’s hard to miss with a torch. The creeper sneaked behind me and helped me sit up. My eyes only closed for a moment, I swear. The torch dropped to the dust and before I knew it I was chewing the flesh of a bright red apple. I swallowed that apple meat, it shocked me conscious, I knew it was a mistake but I was lucky and the food was good. What was I thinking?

It was delicious, like nothing I had ever tasted, and the inside was fairly and comfortably brown. I knew I shouldn’t have taken it, not from him, but I couldn’t hold out; it looked clean, he wasn’t lying about that, it was crisp and fresh like nothing I’d ever eaten.

“This food has water in it?” I asked him.

“Nature knows what it’s doing.”

“I’m not comfortable with you here, with you following me.” I stood up and paced.

“I’ve brought more food.”

“How the hell did you follow me?” I knew I needed his food.

“Transportation is a good way to get around.” He displayed a small, children’s bicycle. He smiled kindly despite his well—worn face.

“What or who is Saraswati?! How did you know I would be here?” Perhaps you can imagine my frantic, confused tone.

“Saraswati is my friend. She said you were here. She knows many things.”

“Why did she tell you to come?”

“To help. I just have food.” He lifted the bucket again, maybe 25… apples.

“That’s a start… but you didn’t answer my question.”

“Worried. It gets really sunny out here, away from the city, it gets fresh.”

“Are you stalking me or what?” I blurted.

“I wanted to apologize. In the subway. Nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened… I know,” I calmed down and knew my only advantage was to keep control of myself.

“I was just confused then and you look familiar. I was going to have a sister once, but she didn’t have a fat belly… she wouldn’t have.”

“I do not have a fat belly!” I was scared, not thinking, everything went so fast, and I just reacted. I thought he was trying to attack me, on the train, wasn’t he?

Beat—brains are known for their frailty with communication and understanding of social situations. Their brains are basically rotting, betraying them. I wondered if my initial impression of him was wrong?

“But, not skinny either.”

“You’re a jerk,” I mocked, “but since you have more of those abbles I may be able to stand you for a little while.” I realized he reminded me of Grandpa.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“Yeah, sort of.” It would be better not to go it alone, Chad mentioned there were many dangers ahead. What if Chad is hurt and I need help rescuing him; my mind couldn’t help but worry only about him.

“I mean the trucks, they growl and roar, never quiet, full of bees.”

“You mean those troopers?”

“They’re the old Coast Guardsmen. They work with the city buy are always outside of it. Can smell ‘em from here.”

“What’s your name?”

“George the 3rd king of the brown and wearer of hats.”

“Could I call you just George?”

“Or, just George it is.”

“Whatever, we’re losing daylight.”

“Let’s go.” George started to move, but I had to be sure I could trust him. I had to try to know him. I trailed behind him to keep him in view.

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“Movie?”

“Yeah. Haven’t you seen any?” “Never. You?”

“The Coastguard doesn’t scare me since they won’t be catching me,” because I thought I had nothing else, “and I’ve never seem you wear a hat.”

“Are movies any good?”

Chad was right, on some level, we won’t be living as long as our parents were able to. There will be only so much time we have and I have no idea how much that is. I had to find Chad. No matter what. I knew he was all I had, and I love him.

I just didn’t want to be alone. It had taken a while for the danger to dawn on me. I had no idea where Chad was, he could have been in a jail… or a grave. I didn’t think George would do anything to hurt me, and I couldn’t pull off whatever vague plan I’d devised that would help me save Chad without some help. Or maybe he was at home eating dinner with mom and dad laughing about how he’d tricked me into leaving the city. I rarely ventured out of my routine, but I was already acting inconsistently and I was sick of resenting the world. George, at least, had two more eyes to help me search.

I knew George was okay when we saw monkeys dancing across these ropes that hung between the carved trees that lined the road. George pointed— “he’s their king” he said.

“How do you know?”

“I’ve met him before.”

“Oh?”

“And he’s got the best dance moves.” George did some sort of off balance jig and spin.

“Where do you think they’re going?”

“Some nice place.”

“How do you suppose that?”

“Hope,” he replied while tossing up apples to our merry monkey companions.

We got to the zone easily.

We overheard the Guardsmen.

“The walkies aren’t working again, Sir. I sent Stephan to Ghiloni and Sebastien to Charter Oak.”

The one in charge had a large gun and a small one at his hip. The one who spoke looked as if he hadn’t slept and held his gun like it might try to escape. All of them held their guns that way, with trepidation like they spent sleepless nights surrounded in the dark by the roars of monsters they never saw. Something made the air dense. We observed them for an hour and could tell they were scrambling all over the place. They sent runners to relay messages. I could tell they were afraid. There was a distinct border, a threshold, as distinct as walking through a waterfall except it was not something you could see. It was a feeling, in the air, molecularly, that was obtrusive. An unavoidable shutter was forced from our bodies when we passed through it. The troops never touched it, out of a fear that was
right
. Once the jarring transition was over we were in the past; the future of some childish hopes; an alternate reality where the world had colors and time was visible, but meant nothing. The sky was peculiar, it hued blue and everything was orchidaceous. I felt like Elanor without the picket fence,
³⁸
and the whole place looked oddly like The Pool at Medfield
³⁹
except it had a blight long derelict. Almost none of it was brown.

Covering the ground were tiny green spikes that smelled like those chemical packs we used to get to make a room smell better, yet they were soft and exuberant. Under the sunny blue sky the world looked alien. Trees, they’re called, but I had never seen one in person before; they seemed alive almost willing to speak. I wished the world was covered in that soft green so that I could curl up and take a nap and sleep forever becoming something that belonged and was a part of this world.

Throughout the verdure was Chad’s mystery, a million clumps and clusters of metal all broken long ago; some big and some small. In the distance I could see large chamber sized discards of some neglected construct.

It was easy to tell the time by the light of the vault. The bright blueness of the sky developed a gradient leading to black; a strong night with another new sight: stars. I had seen the likeness of stars before, but no painting could contend with the magnificence of that milky scar. I could hardly believe it. It was like a dream, the colors and shapes from every iris I’d ever seen. In the city I could look out and up barely catching a sense of what might be there, a single dull twinkle in the northern sky. An unearthly power, those stars in the livid night sky, beyond wonder into sheer magic. It seemed unreal. I fell over as I strained my neck back as far as possible, then farther.

I felt small. Is the out—there the same as here? Could people go there? Are people up there now, disconnected from us? Is such a stupendous sight above me at all times and only now I have been made aware? How could anything I do matter with all that above me?

I wanted to run— but to where? It was all encompassing and great. If we’d known about this all humanity would gather here and tell stories and watch the sky like it’s a drug that keeps us living.

We found a damaged, rotted wood shed and decided to set up for the night near it, but as we got close George began to giggle. Cautious of him, I stopped advancing, my hand immediately sought the torch in my waist band, but he was smiling and laughing to himself and when I finally saw him and questioned what he was so happy about he jumped into the air. He got about 2 devrons up before gently gliding back down.

“Groovy!” George shouted gleefully as he landed.

“Be careful, Chad told me about the weird things that happen around here. Also, beware of water.”
⁴⁰

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Chad said it will burn you worse than fire.”

“Fire—water? Opposites do attract.”

The place was completely unnatural. Water that burns you. Sky that doesn’t push you down; a sky that isn’t brown! It was a wrong place and the longer I suffered it the more I wanted to flee— but couldn’t. I don’t know why, I loved and always wanted what I saw there, but maybe it was too beautiful; my mind wanted to reject the idea of a place like that even being possible. It made my entire past hurt so much more.

Those stars, are they ours? No human could withstand them. If we could all see the night sky that I saw no work, or sleep, or religion would survive the encounter.

We decided the shed unsafe, so we trekked on for another hour to be sure and because we really didn’t know what we were doing.

We found a different place to camp for the night, all dirt spots on the ground, but it got dark and eventually we needed to sleep; I knew that dirt would be part of the process. I was trying to accept it, for Chad’s sake. The torch, single shot, was enough to light a fire from wood George had collected. The white—blue flare popped down the barrel in an all—out sprint for inevitably futile survival. The logs were wet, but the ember had little trouble igniting a bonfire that would warm us until morning.

“What’s with your hair?”

“What?”

“You need a haircut.”

“I cut it myself.” George seemed proud and beamed a smile at me.

“It looks like it,” I smirked.

Running his dirt caked finger tips through matted hair, George seemed self—conscious for the first time. “You don’t like it?”

“Maybe it could use a comb.”

“Where would I get one?”

“You don’t have a comb?”

“No. Are they expensive?”

“They are not.” I struggled not to laugh. “You can find one almost anywhere. We’ll look for one on the way back into the city.”

“Thanks!”

“You are kind. Just like Saraswati said you’d be. I’m glad we are friends now, because I was beginning to…”

I must have fallen asleep.

Not for any good reason, but it was a deep sleep that seemed to have taken longer than it did. I had the kind of dream you realize was a dream only after waking up. They weren’t cats;
⁴¹
dozens of quarter devron long creatures with two—tails and violet eyes, long hair of varied grays with deep purple streaks.

They’d dash around only in my peripherals while the giant fans that made up the six walls cut beams of outside artificial light and made maelstroms of loose fur. In unison they hummed mis—matching melodies
⁴²
unfamiliar to me.

I stood in that single room like a weeping angel covering my face from the fur. After hours I picked up on their tunes and hummed along, like a password the little monsters jolted in place forming six rows of six in a semi—circle before me. In creepy fan chopped voices they, still in unison, spoke: “We are the keepers of your inner mind. You’ve never had a dream like this before. We know this because your mind has been our home ever since we finished learning magic from our uncles.”

“What are we doing here?” I asked them.

“Now is the winter of our discontent! This you know!”

“You don’t all have the same uncle?”

“No…what?”

“You implied you have different uncles, not a shared uncle. Do you all have magical uncles or something?”

“Well, you know, this is a complex situation. We can’t just tell you everything, and our past is subject to varied and inconsistent retcon.”

“If that’s your idea of an answer…”

“We do that sometimes, sorry. Not a lot of conversation happening around here and its not like you have many friends.”

“I haven’t much need.”

“Not since the baby.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Not your first loss, won’t be your last. The world is complex and that’s barely an answer. Surely by now you realize that real, meaningful answers are not given but uncovered and reflected on. You generate the truth for yourself.”

“That sounds wonderful. So, anything I want can be real?”

“No. Truth has little to do with reality. Humanity always chooses that. There are no dreams, no honor remains, just the mind and what it makes of things. The arrow has left the bow long ago.”

“Where is the arrow now?”

“Hard to say.”

“What then?”

“Become the dew that quenches the land.”

“I think I hate it here…”

“Then leave. You are always free to leave. It is your mind after all.”

“How can I leave?”

“Laugh.”

“That’s it? Laugh?”

“You would have guessed so eventually. What did you think you’d have to do, tap your heels?”

In the morning I found that our campsite was next to somebody’s former respite. I figured it had to have been Chad’s. I knew he’d gone out here, alone, looking for mysteries, looking for meaning, or whatever he could find, I knew he hadn’t jumped. All I had to do was figure out which way he’d gone and follow the trail.