Cybomorph
Copyright © 2008 Sally Rogers-Davidson
All rights reserved
Part 1
Germ Life
Dust Theory:
My first theory of life goes like this… You know how they say we’re all made from Stardust? Sounds romantic, doesn’t it? Well I figured out something the poets overlooked. The elements that form our bodies are created inside stars, which in their death explode, scattering the dust all over the universe. The dust swirls around in the vacuum of space until eventually it’s sucked into some kind of gravity well, such as a planet. Planets are really just giant, cosmic vacuum cleaners designed to suck that pesky dust out of the carpet of space. Which, when you think about it makes the Earth a galactic dustbin and us the bacterium that swarm and breed in the rubbish! On the scale of the universe that’s all we are, just tiny, insignificant microbes. Contaminants. Germs in the dust. We come from dust and we go back to dust. It may be stardust, but it’s still dust!
I don’t know about you, but I’ve always found that thought strangely comforting. To me it means that no matter what any of us do, whether we’re the greatest or meanest of beings, in the end all our efforts won’t make any mark big enough to be noticed outside of our tiny dust heap. Whether we’ve made it into the history books or died anonymously in the gutter we’re all of equal importance to the universe, and that equals zero.
There was never any doubt that I was of zero importance to the universe. I came into the world as an unwanted orphan and matured into a D-grade delinquent – if it wasn’t for my body, society wouldn’t have had any use for me at all.
I was destined to join the Space Corps when I grew up.
As an orphan, it was a given. As an orphan with a healthy body, it was imperative. After all, where else but from the herds of two-legged cattle breeding in the foundations of their crystal towers would those aging A-graders find their new young bodies? One day I knew my body would live up there in one of those penthouses. It would know the luxurious lifestyle of a Skywalker, but sadly, I wouldn’t be around to see it.
Actually that was fine by me. I never wished to live out my days in the dust heap of Earth with the rest of the bacterium. Even if I couldn’t make a mark on the universe, at least I could see something of it. I looked forward to the day when I traded in my germ existence for a shiny, new invulnerable cyboform. I longed to float once more in a protective capsule, one even safer than the first... one that I could never be torn from…
My first theory of life goes like this… You know how they say we’re all made from Stardust? Sounds romantic, doesn’t it? Well I figured out something the poets overlooked. The elements that form our bodies are created inside stars, which in their death explode, scattering the dust all over the universe. The dust swirls around in the vacuum of space until eventually it’s sucked into some kind of gravity well, such as a planet. Planets are really just giant, cosmic vacuum cleaners designed to suck that pesky dust out of the carpet of space. Which, when you think about it makes the Earth a galactic dustbin and us the bacterium that swarm and breed in the rubbish! On the scale of the universe that’s all we are, just tiny, insignificant microbes. Contaminants. Germs in the dust. We come from dust and we go back to dust. It may be stardust, but it’s still dust!
I don’t know about you, but I’ve always found that thought strangely comforting. To me it means that no matter what any of us do, whether we’re the greatest or meanest of beings, in the end all our efforts won’t make any mark big enough to be noticed outside of our tiny dust heap. Whether we’ve made it into the history books or died anonymously in the gutter we’re all of equal importance to the universe, and that equals zero.
There was never any doubt that I was of zero importance to the universe. I came into the world as an unwanted orphan and matured into a D-grade delinquent – if it wasn’t for my body, society wouldn’t have had any use for me at all.
I was destined to join the Space Corps when I grew up.
As an orphan, it was a given. As an orphan with a healthy body, it was imperative. After all, where else but from the herds of two-legged cattle breeding in the foundations of their crystal towers would those aging A-graders find their new young bodies? One day I knew my body would live up there in one of those penthouses. It would know the luxurious lifestyle of a Skywalker, but sadly, I wouldn’t be around to see it.
Actually that was fine by me. I never wished to live out my days in the dust heap of Earth with the rest of the bacterium. Even if I couldn’t make a mark on the universe, at least I could see something of it. I looked forward to the day when I traded in my germ existence for a shiny, new invulnerable cyboform. I longed to float once more in a protective capsule, one even safer than the first... one that I could never be torn from…
1
My earliest memory is of the orange sea. I’m floating in a golden mist. There’s nothing but peace. I don’t know what life is. I don’t know what death is. I don’t have any words to describe them. I only know sensations and the muted orange light. It’s so tranquil there, even the harshest sounds from the outside world are muffled by the constant rhythmic heartbeat of the being that keeps me safe and warm and nurtured with her life-giving fluids.
It’s all the memory I have of my mother. She was taken from me even before I was taken from her; taken by the shrapnel that ripped through her brain and her spine and her heart; the shrapnel that exploded through her orange sea. I was ripped from her then, though I’ve wished many times they’d let me stay. I could have passed into oblivion with her, never knowing hunger or loneliness or fear or cold. My universe would have been one of contentment in the orange sea. Instead I’ve had to make do with the memory of it. When I feel most vulnerable I close my eyes and picture myself in that perfect place and I can feel her warmth and love surrounding me. I can feel her spirit there with me, watching over me, protecting me.
She died instantly, but I wasn’t so lucky. I lay there in the gutter with her for long minutes before a rescue worker sliced me from her body. He risked his own life to save mine. He saw my mother was pregnant and braved the devastation to get to her. For that I cursed him every day of my young life. He could have let me stay with my mother, never knowing anything but her gentle orange sea, but instead he fished me out. His intervention saved me from drowning, but not from the damage my brain had already suffered through lack of oxygen.
No one expected me ever to walk or talk. I came into the world alone and damaged. My father, if he ever existed in any real sense, never came forward to claim me, and my mother’s parents were either unable or unwilling to take on the care of a brain-damaged, motherless infant. As a baby I was placed in the care of the state. Mercifully I remember almost nothing of that place, only a vague, cold feeling of loneliness and misery. There was precious little love to go around in the facility. Had anyone given me the attention that any baby deserves, they would have seen sooner that the damage to my brain wasn’t anywhere near as bad as they expected.
It turned out my body wasn’t affected. I was told to be grateful for that. I had my health, and in spite of the damage to my brain my mind was intact, it just didn’t work the way it should. I couldn’t control my emotions. I couldn’t read and speak like others did. I didn’t have the words. I suppose that’s why I’m so obsessed with words now, because for so much of my early life I had so few of them.
When they finally realized that I wasn’t living down to their expectations of me I was given into the care of the first of my foster parents.
It was a definite step up from the facility. For the first time I knew warmth and the soft arms and voice of a caring woman. I’d never been given so much attention and I soaked it up. I needed it and I’d do anything to get it, but it didn’t last. My final memory of her is her face wet with tears as she shoved a fluffy orange Teddy Bear into my hands. Two social workers took me away, kicking and screaming, and I never saw her again.
I was shunted off to the next foster home, and then the next and the next. None of them worked out. The arms grew harder and the voices harsher. I’m told I was a horrible child.
I remember trouble. That’s all I really remember of my early childhood. Angry faces and screaming voices and long, lonely nights locked in my room with nothing for company but my faithful, one armed, eyeless orange Teddy Bear, Ded.
I called him Ded. That’s the way I pronounced Ted, I guess. I suppose he began his life with me as Ted, but to me he was always Ded. He was the one constant in my life, the only reminder of the one person who at least tried to love me. He was the one good thing in my life, my only friend, until that terrible day, the day I still tremble at the memory of.
I hadn’t been in her house for long. For me I’d been well behaved. I was trying, at least. I didn’t want to keep moving from one place to another. It was so hard for me to adjust to the new surroundings, to try to figure out the new Fosters. I was tired and depressed. I wanted to do the right thing, but it seemed no matter how hard I tried, it just wasn’t good enough for her.
‘An ordered life is a happy life,’ was her mantra.
I tried to order my life for her. I made my bed and tidied my room. It was spotless. For me that was an amazing effort, but I really wanted to please her. Her house was so neat and clean. I thought if I showed her I could be neat and clean too, maybe she’d like me. Maybe she’d let me stay longer. It didn’t seem too bad a home. It was better than the last few I’d had. Her husband was a cripple. He wasn’t any trouble to me, not like some of the others. We actually got along. We were comrades in adversity – her burdens. Ded and I would sit on the couch with him in the afternoon watching old Westerns. When she was on a rant he would lean in close and whisper to me with a grin, ‘Life’s a bitch, and then you marry one.’ I’d giggle, and he’d wink at me.
I really did want things to work out at this new place. Even Ded liked it. He was lying comfortably on my pillow, a big smile on his face. I’d even given him a wash. He hadn’t looked so clean in ages. I was so proud of my effort that I’d stood at the end of my bed with a big grin on my face too.
She stood in the doorway. I’ll never forget the way her face looked as she glanced around my room. I think she was pleased, but her face wore a mask of disinterest. I held my breath until she nodded her head and said, ‘Very good.’
I was so excited. I wanted to jump up and down and scream, but I stood there with astonishing discipline. I’d been in her house long enough to know what she expected of me. ‘Thank you, Mother,’ I said simply.
Then she made the minor grimace that was her version of a smile, and said, ‘I have a reward for you.’ Needless to say I was thrilled. Not only was she pleased with me, but she also had a reward for me. It was unbelievable. She made the grimace again as she brought her hand with the reward in it around from behind her back. It was a brand new, blue Teddy Bear. ‘I couldn’t find an orange one like your old one, but I thought this one might do just as well.’
She held it out for me to step forward and take it from her. I couldn’t believe how soft and fluffy its fur was. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, admiring it. I took it at once to introduce it to Ded. I lay it on the pillow next to Ded, and Ded seemed happy to have a brother, even if he did make Ded look shabby by comparison.
‘Perhaps it’s time to throw that revolting old thing away,’ she said.
My heart stopped and my brain froze in horror. I knew that voice. I knew it wasn’t a question that left me any choice. Nevertheless, I had to plead Ded’s case. ‘No, please!’ I begged. ‘I can’t throw Ded away. I’ve always had him. I’m all he’s got!’
‘It’s filthy!’
‘No, I cleaned him.’
‘It’s a disgusting, ugly old thing. Look at it. It spoils the whole room!’
I did as she said and I looked at him, and I had to admit he was the only note of discord in the room. He was messy and I suppose some would say ugly, he’d lost an arm and a leg by then, and his ears were nothing but chewed off stumps, but he was beautiful to me.
‘But I love him,’ I pleaded.
She wasn’t moved by my case. ‘It’s time to throw it out,’ she insisted.
‘No!’ I refused. I grabbed Ded off the pillow and held him tight to my chest. Tears were running down my face. ‘I can’t ever part with Ded. Never!’ I was probably screaming by then. I hardly remember. The redness was filling my head.
‘I won’t have that ugly, dirty, damaged thing in my house a moment longer,’ she screamed at me – she didn’t raise her voice, but she was screaming all the same. ‘I’ve put up with it long enough! I’ve bought you a replacement with my own money! What more can I do? You’re an ungrateful child! Now give it to me!’
I held on tight, not looking at her.
‘Give it to me now!’ she said. Her voice was cold and hard as steel.
I was terrified, but I couldn’t stand by and let her murder Ded. I shook my head and backed away from her.
‘You will give it to me now!’ She screamed. This time she really did scream. It was like a physical blow, but still I held onto Ded. ‘No!’
She’d never struck me before, as most of the others had, which was another reason I’d liked it in her house, but now she grabbed my arm, digging her steely fingers into my soft flesh. It hurt, but I held on tight to Ded. She dug them in harder and shook me, but I held on.
She made a grab for Ded and I tried to swing out of her way but she caught hold of his head. I clutched onto him as tightly as I could but she was so much stronger. She ripped his head off and I screamed. In my moment of horror I was distracted enough for her to let go of my arm and grab what was left of Ded’s body from me.
‘This is going into the recyc right now!’ she announced triumphantly and turned to make her way to the kitchen.
I screamed and raced after her, trying to tackle her to the ground. I only managed to clutch at the back of her dress. I ripped it, which only made her angrier. She swung around and pushed me to the ground. By the time I got to my feet and raced after her into the kitchen she was holding the door to the recyc chute open with Ded’s remains held aloft.
I screamed and made a dive but as I flew through the air with my hands reaching out for my beloved friend she released her grip and he fell into the chute. I crashed down on the floor at her feet, stunned and crying hysterically. When she pulled me to my feet I attacked her. I would have killed her if I’d been physically capable of it. Instead she dragged me kicking and screaming into my bedroom and locked the door, telling me, ‘You can come out when you’ve come to your senses!’
I never did come back to my senses. I stood for a moment in shock. Then I looked at my room, the room I’d taken such pains to clean. All my effort, the most effort I’d made in my entire life, rewarded with the death of Ded.
My gaze rested on the new blue Teddy Bear still lying on my pillow where I’d placed him beside Ded. Poor innocent Ded, who’d greeted his new brother with such happiness, never suspecting it was his final selfless act. By the time I came to my senses the blue bear was lying in a hundred pieces amongst the debris of what was left of my room.
The one thing I remember about trashing my room was that no matter how much damage I inflicted on my surroundings, it wouldn’t bring Ded back to me, and it didn’t help to ease the pain of his loss. I eventually collapsed from exhaustion and lay in the debris, crying inconsolably until the angel came to me.
Strangely perhaps, the angel looked like Ded, but not the poor miserable damaged Ded who’d gone into the recyc – Ded, as I remembered him from when he was new with all his fur and limbs and sensory organs still intact. I stopped crying immediately as I was bathed in the angel’s golden orange light. Ded’s angelically animated face stared down at me from within the golden light and filled me with a peace I hadn’t known since before my birth.
‘Ded!’ I smiled up at him in delight. ‘You’re whole again! You have wings!’
‘You know we always wanted wings.’
‘And now at least you have them,’ I said, happy for him, but sad for my own wingless state.
‘Don’t be sad for me. It’s not so bad, being dead.’
‘I tried to stop her. I tried to save you. I’m sorry she killed you.’
‘But I’m so happy! It’s wonderful here. There’s sunshine, and flowers, and trees full of honey, and I can fly anywhere with these wings.’
‘So that’s heaven, then?’
‘Yes! In spite of popular belief, Teddy bears do go to heaven, that is, if they’ve been loved enough in their lifetime.’
‘I did love you, Ded.’
‘You still do.’
‘Yes, I’ll never forget you, just like I’ll never forget my mother.’ A thought occurred to me. ‘Is my mother there?’ I asked.
‘Yes, she’s right here with me.’
For a moment the angel’s face transformed into that of a beautiful woman. I’d never seen the face of my mother, but I knew it was her. In her eyes I could see so much love. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I reached out to her. I wanted her to take me in her arms.
‘Take me with you,’ I begged. ‘I want to go with you.’
‘No, my darling,’ she told me sadly. ‘It’s not your time. You still have lives to live and oceans of time to cross before we can be together again.’
‘Lives?’ I was confused. I didn’t know what she meant. I told her, ‘I don’t want to live at all. I want to be with you and Ded. I hate it here!’
‘We’ll always be with you, my darling girl. Have faith in that. Things will only get better, you’ll see.’
‘They couldn’t get any worse.’
My angel disagreed. ‘Things can always get worse!’
I gasped in horror at her words, but she reached out a calming hand and reassured me, ‘But not this time, my sweet. Things will change for the better. We’ll be watching over you. You’ll never be truly alone, not while you have us in your heart.’
I could feel the warmth of them in my heart. I didn’t really need to hold them in my arms, much as I wanted to. As her words filled me with peace I looked down on the shredded remains of the blue bear and I felt such a pang of guilt.
‘Poor blue bear,’ my angel said. ‘He wasn’t to blame. You shouldn’t have taken it out on him.’
Tears of shame poured from my eyes. I said, ‘I didn’t mean it! I’d bring him back if I could.’
‘But you can’t bring him back. What’s destroyed is gone forever.’
‘Like Ded.’
‘Ded was loved, the blue bear never was. Ded will live in your memory. The blue bear never had a chance.’
‘I’m sorry.’ I truly was.
My angel relented a little. ‘The blue bear was just an object, but its loss was pointless. You regret your actions now, but it’s too late to change them. Once a thing is done, it can’t be undone. In life you rarely get a second chance. Remember that.’
‘I will,’ I promised.
‘Learn from your mistakes, and then at least you only have to make them once.’ With those sage words she faded away and I must have fallen asleep.
The social workers came for me eventually. I never did lay eyes on that foster mother again. I stayed locked in my shattered room until the social workers took me away.
It’s all the memory I have of my mother. She was taken from me even before I was taken from her; taken by the shrapnel that ripped through her brain and her spine and her heart; the shrapnel that exploded through her orange sea. I was ripped from her then, though I’ve wished many times they’d let me stay. I could have passed into oblivion with her, never knowing hunger or loneliness or fear or cold. My universe would have been one of contentment in the orange sea. Instead I’ve had to make do with the memory of it. When I feel most vulnerable I close my eyes and picture myself in that perfect place and I can feel her warmth and love surrounding me. I can feel her spirit there with me, watching over me, protecting me.
She died instantly, but I wasn’t so lucky. I lay there in the gutter with her for long minutes before a rescue worker sliced me from her body. He risked his own life to save mine. He saw my mother was pregnant and braved the devastation to get to her. For that I cursed him every day of my young life. He could have let me stay with my mother, never knowing anything but her gentle orange sea, but instead he fished me out. His intervention saved me from drowning, but not from the damage my brain had already suffered through lack of oxygen.
No one expected me ever to walk or talk. I came into the world alone and damaged. My father, if he ever existed in any real sense, never came forward to claim me, and my mother’s parents were either unable or unwilling to take on the care of a brain-damaged, motherless infant. As a baby I was placed in the care of the state. Mercifully I remember almost nothing of that place, only a vague, cold feeling of loneliness and misery. There was precious little love to go around in the facility. Had anyone given me the attention that any baby deserves, they would have seen sooner that the damage to my brain wasn’t anywhere near as bad as they expected.
It turned out my body wasn’t affected. I was told to be grateful for that. I had my health, and in spite of the damage to my brain my mind was intact, it just didn’t work the way it should. I couldn’t control my emotions. I couldn’t read and speak like others did. I didn’t have the words. I suppose that’s why I’m so obsessed with words now, because for so much of my early life I had so few of them.
When they finally realized that I wasn’t living down to their expectations of me I was given into the care of the first of my foster parents.
It was a definite step up from the facility. For the first time I knew warmth and the soft arms and voice of a caring woman. I’d never been given so much attention and I soaked it up. I needed it and I’d do anything to get it, but it didn’t last. My final memory of her is her face wet with tears as she shoved a fluffy orange Teddy Bear into my hands. Two social workers took me away, kicking and screaming, and I never saw her again.
I was shunted off to the next foster home, and then the next and the next. None of them worked out. The arms grew harder and the voices harsher. I’m told I was a horrible child.
I remember trouble. That’s all I really remember of my early childhood. Angry faces and screaming voices and long, lonely nights locked in my room with nothing for company but my faithful, one armed, eyeless orange Teddy Bear, Ded.
I called him Ded. That’s the way I pronounced Ted, I guess. I suppose he began his life with me as Ted, but to me he was always Ded. He was the one constant in my life, the only reminder of the one person who at least tried to love me. He was the one good thing in my life, my only friend, until that terrible day, the day I still tremble at the memory of.
I hadn’t been in her house for long. For me I’d been well behaved. I was trying, at least. I didn’t want to keep moving from one place to another. It was so hard for me to adjust to the new surroundings, to try to figure out the new Fosters. I was tired and depressed. I wanted to do the right thing, but it seemed no matter how hard I tried, it just wasn’t good enough for her.
‘An ordered life is a happy life,’ was her mantra.
I tried to order my life for her. I made my bed and tidied my room. It was spotless. For me that was an amazing effort, but I really wanted to please her. Her house was so neat and clean. I thought if I showed her I could be neat and clean too, maybe she’d like me. Maybe she’d let me stay longer. It didn’t seem too bad a home. It was better than the last few I’d had. Her husband was a cripple. He wasn’t any trouble to me, not like some of the others. We actually got along. We were comrades in adversity – her burdens. Ded and I would sit on the couch with him in the afternoon watching old Westerns. When she was on a rant he would lean in close and whisper to me with a grin, ‘Life’s a bitch, and then you marry one.’ I’d giggle, and he’d wink at me.
I really did want things to work out at this new place. Even Ded liked it. He was lying comfortably on my pillow, a big smile on his face. I’d even given him a wash. He hadn’t looked so clean in ages. I was so proud of my effort that I’d stood at the end of my bed with a big grin on my face too.
She stood in the doorway. I’ll never forget the way her face looked as she glanced around my room. I think she was pleased, but her face wore a mask of disinterest. I held my breath until she nodded her head and said, ‘Very good.’
I was so excited. I wanted to jump up and down and scream, but I stood there with astonishing discipline. I’d been in her house long enough to know what she expected of me. ‘Thank you, Mother,’ I said simply.
Then she made the minor grimace that was her version of a smile, and said, ‘I have a reward for you.’ Needless to say I was thrilled. Not only was she pleased with me, but she also had a reward for me. It was unbelievable. She made the grimace again as she brought her hand with the reward in it around from behind her back. It was a brand new, blue Teddy Bear. ‘I couldn’t find an orange one like your old one, but I thought this one might do just as well.’
She held it out for me to step forward and take it from her. I couldn’t believe how soft and fluffy its fur was. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, admiring it. I took it at once to introduce it to Ded. I lay it on the pillow next to Ded, and Ded seemed happy to have a brother, even if he did make Ded look shabby by comparison.
‘Perhaps it’s time to throw that revolting old thing away,’ she said.
My heart stopped and my brain froze in horror. I knew that voice. I knew it wasn’t a question that left me any choice. Nevertheless, I had to plead Ded’s case. ‘No, please!’ I begged. ‘I can’t throw Ded away. I’ve always had him. I’m all he’s got!’
‘It’s filthy!’
‘No, I cleaned him.’
‘It’s a disgusting, ugly old thing. Look at it. It spoils the whole room!’
I did as she said and I looked at him, and I had to admit he was the only note of discord in the room. He was messy and I suppose some would say ugly, he’d lost an arm and a leg by then, and his ears were nothing but chewed off stumps, but he was beautiful to me.
‘But I love him,’ I pleaded.
She wasn’t moved by my case. ‘It’s time to throw it out,’ she insisted.
‘No!’ I refused. I grabbed Ded off the pillow and held him tight to my chest. Tears were running down my face. ‘I can’t ever part with Ded. Never!’ I was probably screaming by then. I hardly remember. The redness was filling my head.
‘I won’t have that ugly, dirty, damaged thing in my house a moment longer,’ she screamed at me – she didn’t raise her voice, but she was screaming all the same. ‘I’ve put up with it long enough! I’ve bought you a replacement with my own money! What more can I do? You’re an ungrateful child! Now give it to me!’
I held on tight, not looking at her.
‘Give it to me now!’ she said. Her voice was cold and hard as steel.
I was terrified, but I couldn’t stand by and let her murder Ded. I shook my head and backed away from her.
‘You will give it to me now!’ She screamed. This time she really did scream. It was like a physical blow, but still I held onto Ded. ‘No!’
She’d never struck me before, as most of the others had, which was another reason I’d liked it in her house, but now she grabbed my arm, digging her steely fingers into my soft flesh. It hurt, but I held on tight to Ded. She dug them in harder and shook me, but I held on.
She made a grab for Ded and I tried to swing out of her way but she caught hold of his head. I clutched onto him as tightly as I could but she was so much stronger. She ripped his head off and I screamed. In my moment of horror I was distracted enough for her to let go of my arm and grab what was left of Ded’s body from me.
‘This is going into the recyc right now!’ she announced triumphantly and turned to make her way to the kitchen.
I screamed and raced after her, trying to tackle her to the ground. I only managed to clutch at the back of her dress. I ripped it, which only made her angrier. She swung around and pushed me to the ground. By the time I got to my feet and raced after her into the kitchen she was holding the door to the recyc chute open with Ded’s remains held aloft.
I screamed and made a dive but as I flew through the air with my hands reaching out for my beloved friend she released her grip and he fell into the chute. I crashed down on the floor at her feet, stunned and crying hysterically. When she pulled me to my feet I attacked her. I would have killed her if I’d been physically capable of it. Instead she dragged me kicking and screaming into my bedroom and locked the door, telling me, ‘You can come out when you’ve come to your senses!’
I never did come back to my senses. I stood for a moment in shock. Then I looked at my room, the room I’d taken such pains to clean. All my effort, the most effort I’d made in my entire life, rewarded with the death of Ded.
My gaze rested on the new blue Teddy Bear still lying on my pillow where I’d placed him beside Ded. Poor innocent Ded, who’d greeted his new brother with such happiness, never suspecting it was his final selfless act. By the time I came to my senses the blue bear was lying in a hundred pieces amongst the debris of what was left of my room.
The one thing I remember about trashing my room was that no matter how much damage I inflicted on my surroundings, it wouldn’t bring Ded back to me, and it didn’t help to ease the pain of his loss. I eventually collapsed from exhaustion and lay in the debris, crying inconsolably until the angel came to me.
Strangely perhaps, the angel looked like Ded, but not the poor miserable damaged Ded who’d gone into the recyc – Ded, as I remembered him from when he was new with all his fur and limbs and sensory organs still intact. I stopped crying immediately as I was bathed in the angel’s golden orange light. Ded’s angelically animated face stared down at me from within the golden light and filled me with a peace I hadn’t known since before my birth.
‘Ded!’ I smiled up at him in delight. ‘You’re whole again! You have wings!’
‘You know we always wanted wings.’
‘And now at least you have them,’ I said, happy for him, but sad for my own wingless state.
‘Don’t be sad for me. It’s not so bad, being dead.’
‘I tried to stop her. I tried to save you. I’m sorry she killed you.’
‘But I’m so happy! It’s wonderful here. There’s sunshine, and flowers, and trees full of honey, and I can fly anywhere with these wings.’
‘So that’s heaven, then?’
‘Yes! In spite of popular belief, Teddy bears do go to heaven, that is, if they’ve been loved enough in their lifetime.’
‘I did love you, Ded.’
‘You still do.’
‘Yes, I’ll never forget you, just like I’ll never forget my mother.’ A thought occurred to me. ‘Is my mother there?’ I asked.
‘Yes, she’s right here with me.’
For a moment the angel’s face transformed into that of a beautiful woman. I’d never seen the face of my mother, but I knew it was her. In her eyes I could see so much love. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I reached out to her. I wanted her to take me in her arms.
‘Take me with you,’ I begged. ‘I want to go with you.’
‘No, my darling,’ she told me sadly. ‘It’s not your time. You still have lives to live and oceans of time to cross before we can be together again.’
‘Lives?’ I was confused. I didn’t know what she meant. I told her, ‘I don’t want to live at all. I want to be with you and Ded. I hate it here!’
‘We’ll always be with you, my darling girl. Have faith in that. Things will only get better, you’ll see.’
‘They couldn’t get any worse.’
My angel disagreed. ‘Things can always get worse!’
I gasped in horror at her words, but she reached out a calming hand and reassured me, ‘But not this time, my sweet. Things will change for the better. We’ll be watching over you. You’ll never be truly alone, not while you have us in your heart.’
I could feel the warmth of them in my heart. I didn’t really need to hold them in my arms, much as I wanted to. As her words filled me with peace I looked down on the shredded remains of the blue bear and I felt such a pang of guilt.
‘Poor blue bear,’ my angel said. ‘He wasn’t to blame. You shouldn’t have taken it out on him.’
Tears of shame poured from my eyes. I said, ‘I didn’t mean it! I’d bring him back if I could.’
‘But you can’t bring him back. What’s destroyed is gone forever.’
‘Like Ded.’
‘Ded was loved, the blue bear never was. Ded will live in your memory. The blue bear never had a chance.’
‘I’m sorry.’ I truly was.
My angel relented a little. ‘The blue bear was just an object, but its loss was pointless. You regret your actions now, but it’s too late to change them. Once a thing is done, it can’t be undone. In life you rarely get a second chance. Remember that.’
‘I will,’ I promised.
‘Learn from your mistakes, and then at least you only have to make them once.’ With those sage words she faded away and I must have fallen asleep.
The social workers came for me eventually. I never did lay eyes on that foster mother again. I stayed locked in my shattered room until the social workers took me away.
2
‘It’s the Institute for you from now on,’ they told me. ‘No one else will have you.’
‘Good,’ I said. I was scared, actually. I’d been threatened with the Institute so many times. Whenever I was uncontrollable my foster parents would say, ‘If you keep this up it’ll be the Institute for you, my girl. Then you’ll be sorry!’ But I could still feel the warm glow of my angel. She’d assured me that things would improve, so maybe the Institute wouldn’t really be all that bad?
I went with them defiantly; ready to face any horrors they threw at me. I didn’t say a word as they locked me into the back of the welfare van and drove me through the dark and rainy streets to the fortress-like Institute. It was the last I’d see of the outside world for a long time.
I lost my nerve as the van pulled up outside the tall grey featureless walls of the Institute. I’d thought I could bravely meet my fate, but as they dragged me up the hard concrete steps it felt so final, like a prison sentence, which it was, really. I panicked. I reverted to my usual behavior of kicking and screaming. Why should I make it easy for them? They expected it of me anyway, so why disappoint them?
At the top of the stairs they pressed the buzzer for the door to open and I made a valiant attempt to escape their clutches. Of course, if I had managed to break away I wouldn’t have known where to go, but that wasn’t the point. I was running out of breath from screaming by the time the doors finally swung open with a rusty metallic creak. I was almost relieved. Once inside I could go into the frozen panic mode where they had to drag me along, not kicking and screaming, but stiff as a mannequin, a skinny little girl-doll with close-cropped, black hair and big, frightened ebony eyes.
By the time we neared the troubled children’s wing of the Institute my arms were sore from their grasp so I started to walk by myself. Even I could admit there was no escaping my fate at this point, and I didn’t want to create too bad a first impression on my new wardens. We pulled up outside a heavy metal door with a small glaz window and my escort buzzed for attention. After an agonizingly long moment a friendly-faced woman in a nurse’s uniform opened the door and welcomed us in.
I liked her smile. She seemed straightforward enough. I was so relieved I just stood there quietly like a well-behaved child would have done. She smiled down at me and I smiled back at her. She held her hand out to me and I took hold of it without any hesitation. ‘I’m Nurse Reilly,’ she told me, ‘And you’re Megan Black, is that right?’
I nodded, thinking in my head, Well, I’m Megan Black anyway, I can’t say if you’re really Nurse Reilly, but I don’t have any reason to believe you’d lie to me. Out loud I said, ‘Ah hmm,’ and nodded again.
‘I think we’re going to get along just fine, don’t you, Megan?’
I nodded again, thinking, That will be a change.
She left me standing there for a moment while she let the social workers out. I could hear them warning her not to be lulled into thinking I was the angel I appeared to be at the moment. I was only half listening to their conversation as most of my attention was focused on a boy who was walking in my direction. His hair was the colour of Ded’s! I’d never seen anyone with colouring like that before. I pointed at him in delight and started to laugh.
I guess he misinterpreted my reaction. Maybe others had singled him out before, but not in an admiring way. Anyway, he took exception to my mirth and before I fully understood the strength of his objection he’d closed the gap between us and slapped me hard on the face. I, of course, did the only thing I could do under the circumstances. I screamed and pushed him to the floor. Then I jumped on top of him and tried to take some of that orange hair as a souvenir. He screamed and kicked and punched at me but I was determined. Before I managed to get a really good hank of his hair though, a pair of strong, adult hands reached around my body and lifted me off him.
My hopes of being good had lasted all of two minutes. I bowed my face in shame and fear. What diabolical punishments would they cook up for me in this place? I was trembling as Nurse Reilly escorted us both by our collars out of reception and down one of the maze of featureless corridors. I imagined she was taking us to one of the many torture chambers I’d been told they had in the Institute. Terrible rooms filled with all kinds of unspeakable devices for inflicting pain on their doomed inmates. The only thing that kept me from my usual screaming and kicking routine was the orange-haired boy. He didn’t seem the least bit afraid, and since he’d been here longer than I had, I figured he must have some idea of what was in store for us.
We soon came to one of the windowed, heavy metal doors. It did have a label, but I couldn’t read what it said. For all I knew it could have said Torture Chamber. There was a T and a CH, but I think they were together, and in the middle of the word.
Nurse Reilly let go of the boy’s collar long enough to wave her access key across the door’s sensor. The door slid aside long enough for us to enter the glaz-steel chamber. All that glaz-steel has to be good for wiping up bloodstains, I thought. It’s a torture chamber for sure! Then I noticed the yummy food smells and the cooking devices, the work surfaces and refrigerators and tables and chairs. It was a kitchen! I might have breathed a sigh of relief, but I’d been punished in kitchens before. It’s amazing how much pain a spatula across the back of the knees can cause.
Nurse Reilly directed us to one of the tables and told us to sit quietly. Fortunately I was tired after the day and night I’d had. My head was pounding and all I really wanted to do was just sit there quietly. I was too tired to even sob pathetically.
Nurse Reilly moved to the preparation area of the kitchen and shuffled around in the cupboards. The boy seemed content to sit there and daydream, but my attention was focused on what the nurse was doing. Surprisingly she seemed to be preparing some kind of drink. She filled two plaz beakers with a creamy substance that looked and smelled like thickened Molk. Then she poured in some nasty looking black syrup. Probably some foul-tasting poison, I thought. Strangely it smelled like chocolate. Then she topped it off with two scoops of ice cream. By the time she’d blended it together and brought it to the table I was pretty sure it was a chocolate shake. Nevertheless I was wary as I lowered my mouth to the straw poking out of its frothy surface.
The boy was already slurping his down with noisy gusto as I sucked up my first tentative sip of thick, chocolaty goodness. It was yummy, not in the least bit offensive. Wohoho! I thought to myself. If punishment around here is being given chocolate shakes, then maybe this place isn’t so bad after all?
As the creamy richness filled my empty stomach a strange calmness came over me. It was more than just the satisfaction of my first nourishment in almost twenty-four hours – it was a wonderful, uplifting sense of well-being and happiness. My headache dissolved away and I felt at peace with the world. I was starting to wonder if my angel was visiting me again when I noticed the boy was apparently undergoing a similar transformation. It must have been the drink because he smiled contentedly back at me when I smiled at him.
I decided right then that I was going to like this place. A chocolate shake beats an angry shake any day, and I had a companion to share my punishment with. There were other children like me here. I was no longer the only freak.
‘Good,’ I said. I was scared, actually. I’d been threatened with the Institute so many times. Whenever I was uncontrollable my foster parents would say, ‘If you keep this up it’ll be the Institute for you, my girl. Then you’ll be sorry!’ But I could still feel the warm glow of my angel. She’d assured me that things would improve, so maybe the Institute wouldn’t really be all that bad?
I went with them defiantly; ready to face any horrors they threw at me. I didn’t say a word as they locked me into the back of the welfare van and drove me through the dark and rainy streets to the fortress-like Institute. It was the last I’d see of the outside world for a long time.
I lost my nerve as the van pulled up outside the tall grey featureless walls of the Institute. I’d thought I could bravely meet my fate, but as they dragged me up the hard concrete steps it felt so final, like a prison sentence, which it was, really. I panicked. I reverted to my usual behavior of kicking and screaming. Why should I make it easy for them? They expected it of me anyway, so why disappoint them?
At the top of the stairs they pressed the buzzer for the door to open and I made a valiant attempt to escape their clutches. Of course, if I had managed to break away I wouldn’t have known where to go, but that wasn’t the point. I was running out of breath from screaming by the time the doors finally swung open with a rusty metallic creak. I was almost relieved. Once inside I could go into the frozen panic mode where they had to drag me along, not kicking and screaming, but stiff as a mannequin, a skinny little girl-doll with close-cropped, black hair and big, frightened ebony eyes.
By the time we neared the troubled children’s wing of the Institute my arms were sore from their grasp so I started to walk by myself. Even I could admit there was no escaping my fate at this point, and I didn’t want to create too bad a first impression on my new wardens. We pulled up outside a heavy metal door with a small glaz window and my escort buzzed for attention. After an agonizingly long moment a friendly-faced woman in a nurse’s uniform opened the door and welcomed us in.
I liked her smile. She seemed straightforward enough. I was so relieved I just stood there quietly like a well-behaved child would have done. She smiled down at me and I smiled back at her. She held her hand out to me and I took hold of it without any hesitation. ‘I’m Nurse Reilly,’ she told me, ‘And you’re Megan Black, is that right?’
I nodded, thinking in my head, Well, I’m Megan Black anyway, I can’t say if you’re really Nurse Reilly, but I don’t have any reason to believe you’d lie to me. Out loud I said, ‘Ah hmm,’ and nodded again.
‘I think we’re going to get along just fine, don’t you, Megan?’
I nodded again, thinking, That will be a change.
She left me standing there for a moment while she let the social workers out. I could hear them warning her not to be lulled into thinking I was the angel I appeared to be at the moment. I was only half listening to their conversation as most of my attention was focused on a boy who was walking in my direction. His hair was the colour of Ded’s! I’d never seen anyone with colouring like that before. I pointed at him in delight and started to laugh.
I guess he misinterpreted my reaction. Maybe others had singled him out before, but not in an admiring way. Anyway, he took exception to my mirth and before I fully understood the strength of his objection he’d closed the gap between us and slapped me hard on the face. I, of course, did the only thing I could do under the circumstances. I screamed and pushed him to the floor. Then I jumped on top of him and tried to take some of that orange hair as a souvenir. He screamed and kicked and punched at me but I was determined. Before I managed to get a really good hank of his hair though, a pair of strong, adult hands reached around my body and lifted me off him.
My hopes of being good had lasted all of two minutes. I bowed my face in shame and fear. What diabolical punishments would they cook up for me in this place? I was trembling as Nurse Reilly escorted us both by our collars out of reception and down one of the maze of featureless corridors. I imagined she was taking us to one of the many torture chambers I’d been told they had in the Institute. Terrible rooms filled with all kinds of unspeakable devices for inflicting pain on their doomed inmates. The only thing that kept me from my usual screaming and kicking routine was the orange-haired boy. He didn’t seem the least bit afraid, and since he’d been here longer than I had, I figured he must have some idea of what was in store for us.
We soon came to one of the windowed, heavy metal doors. It did have a label, but I couldn’t read what it said. For all I knew it could have said Torture Chamber. There was a T and a CH, but I think they were together, and in the middle of the word.
Nurse Reilly let go of the boy’s collar long enough to wave her access key across the door’s sensor. The door slid aside long enough for us to enter the glaz-steel chamber. All that glaz-steel has to be good for wiping up bloodstains, I thought. It’s a torture chamber for sure! Then I noticed the yummy food smells and the cooking devices, the work surfaces and refrigerators and tables and chairs. It was a kitchen! I might have breathed a sigh of relief, but I’d been punished in kitchens before. It’s amazing how much pain a spatula across the back of the knees can cause.
Nurse Reilly directed us to one of the tables and told us to sit quietly. Fortunately I was tired after the day and night I’d had. My head was pounding and all I really wanted to do was just sit there quietly. I was too tired to even sob pathetically.
Nurse Reilly moved to the preparation area of the kitchen and shuffled around in the cupboards. The boy seemed content to sit there and daydream, but my attention was focused on what the nurse was doing. Surprisingly she seemed to be preparing some kind of drink. She filled two plaz beakers with a creamy substance that looked and smelled like thickened Molk. Then she poured in some nasty looking black syrup. Probably some foul-tasting poison, I thought. Strangely it smelled like chocolate. Then she topped it off with two scoops of ice cream. By the time she’d blended it together and brought it to the table I was pretty sure it was a chocolate shake. Nevertheless I was wary as I lowered my mouth to the straw poking out of its frothy surface.
The boy was already slurping his down with noisy gusto as I sucked up my first tentative sip of thick, chocolaty goodness. It was yummy, not in the least bit offensive. Wohoho! I thought to myself. If punishment around here is being given chocolate shakes, then maybe this place isn’t so bad after all?
As the creamy richness filled my empty stomach a strange calmness came over me. It was more than just the satisfaction of my first nourishment in almost twenty-four hours – it was a wonderful, uplifting sense of well-being and happiness. My headache dissolved away and I felt at peace with the world. I was starting to wonder if my angel was visiting me again when I noticed the boy was apparently undergoing a similar transformation. It must have been the drink because he smiled contentedly back at me when I smiled at him.
I decided right then that I was going to like this place. A chocolate shake beats an angry shake any day, and I had a companion to share my punishment with. There were other children like me here. I was no longer the only freak.
As fate would have it, that little boy became my best friend. The first friend I’d ever had other than Ded. His name was Casper, but everyone called him Ginger. I soon fell into the complementary nickname of Meggs. We were Ginger and Meggs to everyone at the Institute, and even though he was two years older than me we were inseparable.
Between us we were the terror of D-wing. We shared pranks and punishments and chocolate shakes. We even shared the same bunk most nights – at least, while we were kids.
We made some enemies, but when it came to war we always prevailed in the end. We showed no mercy in our mischief, but we never really meant any harm. Ginger always stopped me before I went too far. We weren’t vindictive; we were just having fun.
Ginger looked after me, he even taught me to read a little. He never said I was dumb just because I couldn’t read. He was so patient with me. He helped me to recognize certain words and phrases by their shape, or where they were displayed. Like a lit up word over a doorway usually meant exit.
We were both good at art. I couldn’t read and write, but I could draw. We spent many happy hours in the art room at the institute. It was my favourite place and the only class that I never played up in. I was best in the classes that didn’t rely on reading and writing. Except for recipe books I liked cooking class, and I had a particular talent for electronics. Gym class depended on what we were doing. I hated team sports but I loved gymnastics. I loved dance too, so long as Ginger was my partner.
My time at the Institute was relatively good all in all. Years passed without any major upheavals. There were good times and when there were bad times I at least had Ginger to share them with. But Ginger was two years older than me, and when he turned 16 they released him.
His behavior had been exemplary for the past two years. He’d been too busy keeping me out of trouble to even think of acting up. He deserved his parole. He was being transferred to a sheltered boarding house. He would begin an apprenticeship in some C-grade trade, and then when he turned 18, if he chose to he would transplant.
He’d often spoken of joining the Space Corps. People like us were encouraged to join up as soon as we were old enough. As cybomorphs our behavioral problems could be controlled far more effectively. As recruits in the Space Corps we could give back something to the society that had spent so much on us.
The night before he left I crept into his cubicle as I often did. We were in the same ward so I didn’t have to go through any security or locked doors. I just had to slide his door open and step inside. I closed it behind me and he held the covers up for me to snuggle in next to him. He wrapped his arms around me. I was shivering, I don’t know if it was from the cold or my anxiety over his imminent departure. A bit of both, I suppose.
We lay there for ages just holding each other until I could find the words to tell him what I was thinking. ‘I don’t want you to go.’
‘I don’t have a choice.’
‘Take me with you.’
‘You know I can’t.’
‘It’s not fair!’
‘Whoever said life was fair?’
Not me, that’s for sure. ‘You’ll forget all about me.’
‘How could I ever forget about you?’
‘You will visit me?’
Ginger hesitated. Maybe he was going to tell me then that it wouldn’t be possible, but then I guess he decided it was easier to pretend. ‘Of course I’ll visit you.’
‘You’ll keep in touch? Tell me how you’re getting on?’
‘Sure.’
I guess I knew he was lying to spare my feelings. ‘Hold me,’ I told him desperately. He squeezed me tight as the tears ran down my face and into the cloth of his shirt. ‘How will I manage without you?’ I asked.
‘You will.’
‘But I never did before. I made a mess of everything.’
‘But you’re stronger now. You’re older. You’ll be fine, I know you will.’
‘I don’t want to be alone again.’
‘You won’t be alone. You’ll still have all the others.’
Ginger had lots of other friends at the institute. Everyone liked Ginger. ‘But they don’t like me,’ I said.
‘Sure they do.’
‘They only tolerate me because of you.’
‘That’s just silly.’ Ginger tried to sound convincing but he knew the truth, the others didn’t like me. There wasn’t any point arguing about it.
I didn’t want to spoil our last moments together by arguing. I decided to just shut up and enjoy my last night of peace in his arms. From now on I would have to endure the loneliness and nightmares without his protection. ‘Hold me,’ I told him, even though he already was.
In the morning I helped him pack and saw him off at the door – the same door where I saw him for the first time. Just where I came in to his life, he walked out of mine. Before he left with his escort he turned to me and grabbed me by the arms to make me look in his eyes as he said, ‘Promise me you’ll behave yourself. Don’t mess up. In two years you’ll get out and we can move in together. Then when you turn eighteen we’ll both join the Space Corps. We’ll make something of ourselves, you’ll see.’
I was crying, but I nodded in agreement. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘We’ll be together again.’
‘And for always!’ He hugged me then, one final desperate embrace. Then he walked out of my life.
I stood there just inside the door for ages sobbing. The others knew enough to leave me alone, but I could hear them laughing and whispering about me. My heart was broken and they thought it was funny. If I hadn’t been so upset about Ginger I would have ripped their heads off. At the very least I would have tried. I was just too desolate to move.
Over the next months I tried to fit in. I even tried to make friends, but it was too little too late. They’d have none of me. I couldn’t blame them really; I’d never made any effort to be nice to them when I had Ginger. It was too bad for me that I’d lost him. I should have been nicer to them in the past. But I hadn’t needed them when I had Ginger. It was hard enough for me to be a friend to him without having to stretch my resources to include others. There were too many rules and subtleties involved in relationships. I just didn’t understand the dynamics of socialization I couldn’t make them like me.
All my efforts only made things worse. They alienated me completely. At least they’d tolerated me when Ginger was around. When we’d joined others at a table they’d allowed me to sit quietly while they talked with Ginger. I’d never actually spoken to anyone but Ginger. I hadn’t even realized it until he wasn’t there anymore. Now when I summoned up the nerve to sit at the same table as anyone else they either moved to another, or turned away from me. When I did try to speak to them they’d ignore me or laugh at me. For Ginger’s sake I tried, but it was useless.
In the end I gave up and retreated even further into myself. When the teachers spoke to me I just looked at them or nodded, but I didn’t say another word to anyone in the Institute. I went to class and I did my work, but that was all.
I waited for Ginger to come and visit, or at least to call, or write, but he never did. I don’t know why. Maybe he wasn’t allowed. Maybe they convinced him that continued association with me would only bring him down. His problems had been psychological and he’d grown out of them. He could start afresh. He could make something of himself. Everyone knew that I never would. It still hurts when I think of it. It was an even worse pain than when I lost Ded.
I tried to endure life in the Institute, but I couldn’t cope without Ginger. He was my strength. He looked after me. None of the others could control me. I’d go from silence to screaming rage. I spent the first month on an almost permanent Chocolate shake high. I grew to hate those creamy concoctions. It wasn’t the same without Ginger to share them with.
My life was on a downward spiral. I knew I’d never survive another two years like this. I had to find Ginger. I needed to see him again, to find out why he’d deserted me. I needed to be with him again, and if he wouldn’t come to me, then I would have to go to him.
Between us we were the terror of D-wing. We shared pranks and punishments and chocolate shakes. We even shared the same bunk most nights – at least, while we were kids.
We made some enemies, but when it came to war we always prevailed in the end. We showed no mercy in our mischief, but we never really meant any harm. Ginger always stopped me before I went too far. We weren’t vindictive; we were just having fun.
Ginger looked after me, he even taught me to read a little. He never said I was dumb just because I couldn’t read. He was so patient with me. He helped me to recognize certain words and phrases by their shape, or where they were displayed. Like a lit up word over a doorway usually meant exit.
We were both good at art. I couldn’t read and write, but I could draw. We spent many happy hours in the art room at the institute. It was my favourite place and the only class that I never played up in. I was best in the classes that didn’t rely on reading and writing. Except for recipe books I liked cooking class, and I had a particular talent for electronics. Gym class depended on what we were doing. I hated team sports but I loved gymnastics. I loved dance too, so long as Ginger was my partner.
My time at the Institute was relatively good all in all. Years passed without any major upheavals. There were good times and when there were bad times I at least had Ginger to share them with. But Ginger was two years older than me, and when he turned 16 they released him.
His behavior had been exemplary for the past two years. He’d been too busy keeping me out of trouble to even think of acting up. He deserved his parole. He was being transferred to a sheltered boarding house. He would begin an apprenticeship in some C-grade trade, and then when he turned 18, if he chose to he would transplant.
He’d often spoken of joining the Space Corps. People like us were encouraged to join up as soon as we were old enough. As cybomorphs our behavioral problems could be controlled far more effectively. As recruits in the Space Corps we could give back something to the society that had spent so much on us.
The night before he left I crept into his cubicle as I often did. We were in the same ward so I didn’t have to go through any security or locked doors. I just had to slide his door open and step inside. I closed it behind me and he held the covers up for me to snuggle in next to him. He wrapped his arms around me. I was shivering, I don’t know if it was from the cold or my anxiety over his imminent departure. A bit of both, I suppose.
We lay there for ages just holding each other until I could find the words to tell him what I was thinking. ‘I don’t want you to go.’
‘I don’t have a choice.’
‘Take me with you.’
‘You know I can’t.’
‘It’s not fair!’
‘Whoever said life was fair?’
Not me, that’s for sure. ‘You’ll forget all about me.’
‘How could I ever forget about you?’
‘You will visit me?’
Ginger hesitated. Maybe he was going to tell me then that it wouldn’t be possible, but then I guess he decided it was easier to pretend. ‘Of course I’ll visit you.’
‘You’ll keep in touch? Tell me how you’re getting on?’
‘Sure.’
I guess I knew he was lying to spare my feelings. ‘Hold me,’ I told him desperately. He squeezed me tight as the tears ran down my face and into the cloth of his shirt. ‘How will I manage without you?’ I asked.
‘You will.’
‘But I never did before. I made a mess of everything.’
‘But you’re stronger now. You’re older. You’ll be fine, I know you will.’
‘I don’t want to be alone again.’
‘You won’t be alone. You’ll still have all the others.’
Ginger had lots of other friends at the institute. Everyone liked Ginger. ‘But they don’t like me,’ I said.
‘Sure they do.’
‘They only tolerate me because of you.’
‘That’s just silly.’ Ginger tried to sound convincing but he knew the truth, the others didn’t like me. There wasn’t any point arguing about it.
I didn’t want to spoil our last moments together by arguing. I decided to just shut up and enjoy my last night of peace in his arms. From now on I would have to endure the loneliness and nightmares without his protection. ‘Hold me,’ I told him, even though he already was.
In the morning I helped him pack and saw him off at the door – the same door where I saw him for the first time. Just where I came in to his life, he walked out of mine. Before he left with his escort he turned to me and grabbed me by the arms to make me look in his eyes as he said, ‘Promise me you’ll behave yourself. Don’t mess up. In two years you’ll get out and we can move in together. Then when you turn eighteen we’ll both join the Space Corps. We’ll make something of ourselves, you’ll see.’
I was crying, but I nodded in agreement. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘We’ll be together again.’
‘And for always!’ He hugged me then, one final desperate embrace. Then he walked out of my life.
I stood there just inside the door for ages sobbing. The others knew enough to leave me alone, but I could hear them laughing and whispering about me. My heart was broken and they thought it was funny. If I hadn’t been so upset about Ginger I would have ripped their heads off. At the very least I would have tried. I was just too desolate to move.
Over the next months I tried to fit in. I even tried to make friends, but it was too little too late. They’d have none of me. I couldn’t blame them really; I’d never made any effort to be nice to them when I had Ginger. It was too bad for me that I’d lost him. I should have been nicer to them in the past. But I hadn’t needed them when I had Ginger. It was hard enough for me to be a friend to him without having to stretch my resources to include others. There were too many rules and subtleties involved in relationships. I just didn’t understand the dynamics of socialization I couldn’t make them like me.
All my efforts only made things worse. They alienated me completely. At least they’d tolerated me when Ginger was around. When we’d joined others at a table they’d allowed me to sit quietly while they talked with Ginger. I’d never actually spoken to anyone but Ginger. I hadn’t even realized it until he wasn’t there anymore. Now when I summoned up the nerve to sit at the same table as anyone else they either moved to another, or turned away from me. When I did try to speak to them they’d ignore me or laugh at me. For Ginger’s sake I tried, but it was useless.
In the end I gave up and retreated even further into myself. When the teachers spoke to me I just looked at them or nodded, but I didn’t say another word to anyone in the Institute. I went to class and I did my work, but that was all.
I waited for Ginger to come and visit, or at least to call, or write, but he never did. I don’t know why. Maybe he wasn’t allowed. Maybe they convinced him that continued association with me would only bring him down. His problems had been psychological and he’d grown out of them. He could start afresh. He could make something of himself. Everyone knew that I never would. It still hurts when I think of it. It was an even worse pain than when I lost Ded.
I tried to endure life in the Institute, but I couldn’t cope without Ginger. He was my strength. He looked after me. None of the others could control me. I’d go from silence to screaming rage. I spent the first month on an almost permanent Chocolate shake high. I grew to hate those creamy concoctions. It wasn’t the same without Ginger to share them with.
My life was on a downward spiral. I knew I’d never survive another two years like this. I had to find Ginger. I needed to see him again, to find out why he’d deserted me. I needed to be with him again, and if he wouldn’t come to me, then I would have to go to him.
3
I waited until all the others were asleep, and dressed in my warmest clothing, the stuff I wore on the rare occasions we were taken outside. I’d already packed my knapsack with a change of clothing, my hairbrush, some tooth chew and a supply of food that I’d managed to squirrel away. I fished it out from its hiding place in the bottom of my locker. I didn’t have any money, and I didn’t have anything else in my locker that was worth taking. My drawings wouldn’t be any use to me on the outside.
I shoved my extra pillow under the covers to make it look like I was in the bed, and then made my way past the bunks of my fellow dorm mates to the door. It was locked but I’d made a gadget to take care of that in electronics and maintenance workshop. Mister Sniddens thought it was a simple broadband receiver, and it was, but it was also useful for other things including the picking of magnetic locks. I was dumb in lots of ways, but for some reason circuitry wasn’t one of them.
I held the device up to the lock. Like most of the inner doors of the institute this was a simple infrared remotely activated lock. The wardens all wore devices on their belts to let them control the doors. It was a simple thing to override the lock. I slipped through the door and locked it again from the outside. The longer it took them to discover my absence, the more chance I had of escaping.
There were surveillance cameras of course, but it was no secret that the night security guard was a devoted fan of European football. There was a big match on about now so I was gambling he’d be too busy watching that to pay much attention to the dark corridors of D-wing. All the same I kept low and to the shadows, creeping along close to the walls and staying in the periphery of the cameras views. I was relatively safe in the areas that were regularly patrolled by the staff, but there were motion detectors in the less frequented parts of the facility.
After going over all my options I’d decided the quickest way out of the building was down one of the recyc chutes. It was dangerous, but I was fairly sure I could pull it off. I made my way to the maintenance workshop where one of the largest recyc chutes was located, and where I could also pick up some useful aids to my escape.
I used my gadget to break into the storeroom, which conveniently wasn’t alarmed. From it I took a Magnilumination Visor, the small toolkit I used in class, a pair of heavy-duty maintenance gloves and a roll of electrical cabling that I hoped was a long enough reel to reach all the way down to the sewers.
Knowing that any second I could be discovered I didn’t waste time locking the cupboard, but raced to open the door to the dry-waste disposal chute. I stowed the toolkit in my knapsack and after tying it to one end of the cable, dropped it into the shoot and began to lower it down. When I felt it being dragged by the moving belt far below I pulled the cable back up a full arm’s reach so my knapsack wouldn’t get caught on anything moving along the belt. Keeping it at that length I tied my end around the drainpipe under the workshop sink, which was the nearest solid object that would take my weight. After one last look around at the place I hoped to never see again I pulled on the visor and gloves and climbed into the chute.
As I let myself slowly down the cable I couldn’t help being aware of the irony that I was escaping via the same route that had been Ded’s doom. I had to brace my back and feet against the sides of the chute so I wouldn’t slide down too fast. The chute was vertical so I wouldn’t have been in very good shape if I’d just let myself drop straight down to the bottom. Even wearing the gloves the thin cable bit into my hands painfully. Luckily they were tough from all the manual work I did, and I was used to holding my own weight in gym class, but even so, by the time I was nearing the bottom of the chute I was almost screaming from the physical strain of my ordeal. I was so relieved when I reached my knapsack at the bottom that I almost dropped straight down onto the conveyor belt without first looking to check if it was safe.
I could see clearly with the glasses on and it was pretty much empty. It being so late at night I guess there weren’t too many people throwing things away. Keeping a tight hold of the rope and my knapsack, I lowered my feet down so they were just touching the conveyor belt and walked in place as I checked out the tunnel’s surrounds. If it looked too dangerous, I thought, I could climb back up the cable and forget the whole idea. I didn’t want to end up in an incinerator at the recyc plant, after all. Not like poor Ded.
But they didn’t incinerate everything; they did recycle stuff too, so even if I ended up at the plant I’d surely be able to escape from there. Unless the belts emptied into deep pits, I supposed. I saw myself being flung into a deep pit of jagged metal and glass and I suddenly didn’t feel quite so confident. But then I reasoned there would surely be maintenance bays along the tunnel. Surely the city workers had to repair it sometimes. The institute was at least twenty city blocks from the nearest recyc plant, so surely there’d be opportunities to escape along the way.
It was dark and spooky in the tube. The atmosphere was stinky and moist, like a sweaty armpit. Even with the visor over my eyes there was little to see, just a long, narrow tunnel leading into blackness at both ends. The constant low hum of the motorized conveyor-belt was punctuated alarmingly now and then by the screaming clatter of something being dropped down onto it. The sound was scary enough coming from a distance; I dreaded to think what it would sound like coming from directly overhead.
The longer I hesitated the more I realized how insane my plan was. But when I thought about having to climb back up the cable to the Institute I decided the risk of committing to the conveyor belt was less daunting. I untied my knapsack from the cable and let go, allowing myself to move along with the belt. I slipped the knapsack properly in place on my back and prepared to dive off the belt at the first opportunity.
It seemed like an eternity that I rode along the belt. Apart from the chute holes above there weren’t any exits out of the tunnel. I was panicking as I tried to imagine what I’d be faced with at the other end of the tunnel. I really didn’t want to end up at the plant. My eyes must have been nearly popping out of my head they were scanning the tunnel walls ahead so intently. I hardly dared to blink in case I missed something. I was wondering if I should start running as fast as I could back to the cable dangling from the chute at the Institute when I finally saw a dark spot in the left side of the wall up ahead. I screamed with relief and readied myself to jump.
It only occurred to me after I’d already launched myself off the belt that the opening to the side might lead to a bottomless pit. Time seemed to freeze with me hanging in mid-air like one of those classic cartoon characters. Oddly, I yelled out, ‘Ded!’ I don’t know if it was a plea or a prayer, but it worked because instead of the anticipated fall into the never-ending abyss, I landed with a reassuring thud onto a solid concrete floor. I breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed fully onto the floor for a well-earned rest.
I didn’t give myself too long to recover before I climbed back to my feet. There was a slim possibility that they’d already discovered my absence at the institute so the sooner I got out of the recyc tunnels, the better.
I appeared to be in some kind of juncture between the recyc tube and a utility tunnel. The tunnel was lined with pipes for water and gas and cables for electricity and telecommunications. Unlike the recyc tubes the utility tunnels were designed for access to maintenance crews, so there was a grated path along its centre.
My spirits lifted as I realized it wouldn’t be long before I found an exit to the city above. I was nearly free. My plan hadn’t been so farfetched after all! I was dancing in celebration when a crashing noise from somewhere down the tunnel reminded me that I wasn’t out of danger yet. I set off swiftly down the tunnel in the opposite direction to where the noise had come from and after about five minutes came to a ladder leading up to the surface.
The heavy metal grate at the top of the ladder could be unlocked from below without a key, but it was so heavy that I couldn’t lift it at first. I had to move up higher on the ladder and bend my head forward so I could push it up with my shoulder. Even then I had to work myself up into a panicked fury before I could budge it at all. With all my strength I gave it one almighty shove and it finally flipped up and rolled out across the road with a resounding metallic clang.
I was so excited to be free of the sewer that I followed it out onto the tarmac without pausing to check that the street above was clear of traffic. I pulled myself up to my feet and turned to see a car’s headlights racing toward me.
I shoved my extra pillow under the covers to make it look like I was in the bed, and then made my way past the bunks of my fellow dorm mates to the door. It was locked but I’d made a gadget to take care of that in electronics and maintenance workshop. Mister Sniddens thought it was a simple broadband receiver, and it was, but it was also useful for other things including the picking of magnetic locks. I was dumb in lots of ways, but for some reason circuitry wasn’t one of them.
I held the device up to the lock. Like most of the inner doors of the institute this was a simple infrared remotely activated lock. The wardens all wore devices on their belts to let them control the doors. It was a simple thing to override the lock. I slipped through the door and locked it again from the outside. The longer it took them to discover my absence, the more chance I had of escaping.
There were surveillance cameras of course, but it was no secret that the night security guard was a devoted fan of European football. There was a big match on about now so I was gambling he’d be too busy watching that to pay much attention to the dark corridors of D-wing. All the same I kept low and to the shadows, creeping along close to the walls and staying in the periphery of the cameras views. I was relatively safe in the areas that were regularly patrolled by the staff, but there were motion detectors in the less frequented parts of the facility.
After going over all my options I’d decided the quickest way out of the building was down one of the recyc chutes. It was dangerous, but I was fairly sure I could pull it off. I made my way to the maintenance workshop where one of the largest recyc chutes was located, and where I could also pick up some useful aids to my escape.
I used my gadget to break into the storeroom, which conveniently wasn’t alarmed. From it I took a Magnilumination Visor, the small toolkit I used in class, a pair of heavy-duty maintenance gloves and a roll of electrical cabling that I hoped was a long enough reel to reach all the way down to the sewers.
Knowing that any second I could be discovered I didn’t waste time locking the cupboard, but raced to open the door to the dry-waste disposal chute. I stowed the toolkit in my knapsack and after tying it to one end of the cable, dropped it into the shoot and began to lower it down. When I felt it being dragged by the moving belt far below I pulled the cable back up a full arm’s reach so my knapsack wouldn’t get caught on anything moving along the belt. Keeping it at that length I tied my end around the drainpipe under the workshop sink, which was the nearest solid object that would take my weight. After one last look around at the place I hoped to never see again I pulled on the visor and gloves and climbed into the chute.
As I let myself slowly down the cable I couldn’t help being aware of the irony that I was escaping via the same route that had been Ded’s doom. I had to brace my back and feet against the sides of the chute so I wouldn’t slide down too fast. The chute was vertical so I wouldn’t have been in very good shape if I’d just let myself drop straight down to the bottom. Even wearing the gloves the thin cable bit into my hands painfully. Luckily they were tough from all the manual work I did, and I was used to holding my own weight in gym class, but even so, by the time I was nearing the bottom of the chute I was almost screaming from the physical strain of my ordeal. I was so relieved when I reached my knapsack at the bottom that I almost dropped straight down onto the conveyor belt without first looking to check if it was safe.
I could see clearly with the glasses on and it was pretty much empty. It being so late at night I guess there weren’t too many people throwing things away. Keeping a tight hold of the rope and my knapsack, I lowered my feet down so they were just touching the conveyor belt and walked in place as I checked out the tunnel’s surrounds. If it looked too dangerous, I thought, I could climb back up the cable and forget the whole idea. I didn’t want to end up in an incinerator at the recyc plant, after all. Not like poor Ded.
But they didn’t incinerate everything; they did recycle stuff too, so even if I ended up at the plant I’d surely be able to escape from there. Unless the belts emptied into deep pits, I supposed. I saw myself being flung into a deep pit of jagged metal and glass and I suddenly didn’t feel quite so confident. But then I reasoned there would surely be maintenance bays along the tunnel. Surely the city workers had to repair it sometimes. The institute was at least twenty city blocks from the nearest recyc plant, so surely there’d be opportunities to escape along the way.
It was dark and spooky in the tube. The atmosphere was stinky and moist, like a sweaty armpit. Even with the visor over my eyes there was little to see, just a long, narrow tunnel leading into blackness at both ends. The constant low hum of the motorized conveyor-belt was punctuated alarmingly now and then by the screaming clatter of something being dropped down onto it. The sound was scary enough coming from a distance; I dreaded to think what it would sound like coming from directly overhead.
The longer I hesitated the more I realized how insane my plan was. But when I thought about having to climb back up the cable to the Institute I decided the risk of committing to the conveyor belt was less daunting. I untied my knapsack from the cable and let go, allowing myself to move along with the belt. I slipped the knapsack properly in place on my back and prepared to dive off the belt at the first opportunity.
It seemed like an eternity that I rode along the belt. Apart from the chute holes above there weren’t any exits out of the tunnel. I was panicking as I tried to imagine what I’d be faced with at the other end of the tunnel. I really didn’t want to end up at the plant. My eyes must have been nearly popping out of my head they were scanning the tunnel walls ahead so intently. I hardly dared to blink in case I missed something. I was wondering if I should start running as fast as I could back to the cable dangling from the chute at the Institute when I finally saw a dark spot in the left side of the wall up ahead. I screamed with relief and readied myself to jump.
It only occurred to me after I’d already launched myself off the belt that the opening to the side might lead to a bottomless pit. Time seemed to freeze with me hanging in mid-air like one of those classic cartoon characters. Oddly, I yelled out, ‘Ded!’ I don’t know if it was a plea or a prayer, but it worked because instead of the anticipated fall into the never-ending abyss, I landed with a reassuring thud onto a solid concrete floor. I breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed fully onto the floor for a well-earned rest.
I didn’t give myself too long to recover before I climbed back to my feet. There was a slim possibility that they’d already discovered my absence at the institute so the sooner I got out of the recyc tunnels, the better.
I appeared to be in some kind of juncture between the recyc tube and a utility tunnel. The tunnel was lined with pipes for water and gas and cables for electricity and telecommunications. Unlike the recyc tubes the utility tunnels were designed for access to maintenance crews, so there was a grated path along its centre.
My spirits lifted as I realized it wouldn’t be long before I found an exit to the city above. I was nearly free. My plan hadn’t been so farfetched after all! I was dancing in celebration when a crashing noise from somewhere down the tunnel reminded me that I wasn’t out of danger yet. I set off swiftly down the tunnel in the opposite direction to where the noise had come from and after about five minutes came to a ladder leading up to the surface.
The heavy metal grate at the top of the ladder could be unlocked from below without a key, but it was so heavy that I couldn’t lift it at first. I had to move up higher on the ladder and bend my head forward so I could push it up with my shoulder. Even then I had to work myself up into a panicked fury before I could budge it at all. With all my strength I gave it one almighty shove and it finally flipped up and rolled out across the road with a resounding metallic clang.
I was so excited to be free of the sewer that I followed it out onto the tarmac without pausing to check that the street above was clear of traffic. I pulled myself up to my feet and turned to see a car’s headlights racing toward me.
