he knows the way all by himself?”
Meyi breaks out of Lizwi’s hold and throws himself at the wall, his hands raised so his palms connect with the brown surface. Then he totters backwards a metre or so, and forwards again, seeking the wall. He does it again and again, all the time with those shouting sounds coming out of his mouth. I see that he’s on tiptoe the whole time he’s doing it.
“Can’t you stop him?” I ask Lizwi.
She doesn’t answer me.
I see the security officer throw a look at Meyi, but he’s too into Halo to do or say anything.
Then his colleague returns.
“They say you can come.” No smile, and a sour look for Meyi. “I don’t know what you’re going to do about him. What’s his case?”
“Come, Meyi, come.” Lizwi gets her arms round him and turns him in the direction we have to go. “We’re going to see Ricochet and Leoli now. They’re heroes, Meyi. Good, lovely, brave people.”
I take a quick look at the officers to see what their reaction is. I mean, Ricochet and Leoli nearly led a popular uprising. I don’t think we’re supposed to hero-worship them. Having to do the draws at a BCC is probably their punishment.
Either they haven’t heard because of Meyi’s racket, or they haven’t registered what Lizwi said.
Or maybe she can get away with saying what she likes because her clothes and speech mark her as Minder-class.
Security he-and-she lead us through a side door, out into the dim contrast of the Sprawll’s general twilight. It’s only now I realise how bright it was in the foyer.
Now in again, through a long mustard tunnel.
“Is there a toilet anywhere here?”
I know Orpa is saying it for effect. We’re from the Margins. Plumbing is non-existent, so we don’t bother with actual toilets.
Or maybe she’s curious. I’ve heard about this flush-foam they have in the Sprawll, that eats whatever you do.
No one answers her. We’ve reached a room that I think must be specially for the BCC drawers to relax in before and after they do their stuff. There are soft seats, with screens all around, plus drinks machines and bowls full of mostly blue food and more bowls piled with sachets of different protein powders for those who don’t trouble themselves with food.
I told the others I’ve never seen Ricochet and Leoli doing any of the screened draws. Now I think maybe I have, only I didn’t recognise them.
They’re the same, but different, if that makes sense.
“You’re going to the Wildlands?” Leoli speaks first. “What has been … vouchsafed to you?”
“I remember the mountain,” Ricochet says, and my insides give a great jump of fright.
How does he know about the mountain? Does he mean my mountain?
And how does he get his dark hair to be both sheeny and glittery at the same time? That and the smoothness of his deep brown skin haven’t changed. It’s his voice that’s different. His words sound as if they’re a recording.
“What do you mean vouchsafed?” I answer Leoli’s question with my own, and I’m thinking how vouchsafed isn’t a word you hear in the Margins.
“We’re so glad you’re still around,” Halo says, like she hasn’t heard what they and I have been saying.
“Not Parked or put down,” Orpa adds, and I see Halo flinch.
“Shut up, Orpa,” I say.
Ricochet and Leoli don’t pay any attention.
“We were Keepers,” Leoli is saying, and she sounds less like a recording, more like someone talking in her sleep.
“Keepers?” Silver asks.
They ignore him.
“Following other Keepers.” Ricochet’s turn.
“We went out.” Leoli.
“We came back.”
I listen and I look, remembering how they used to be, both of them. So tough and alive; heroic or even iconic figures. When they returned from the Wildlands – Ricochet’s came back? – care and suffering had added themselves to their faces, but there was joy too, in the existence of their baby or maybe the start of an uprising.
Leoli. I was just a little kid when they came back, but I think I was in love with her, in the way of stupid small boys.
She was a rebel, full of character and utterly unafraid, it seemed to me. She’d speak out, make fun of anything, our Minders and even serious things from the past, like the Drowning and Salting and the lost continents.
I look at Lizwi to see if she’s also remembering, but she’s giving all her attention to Meyi. He’s stopped his shouting, but he’s not silent. Sounds still come from his mouth, difficult sounds, trying to be words. It looks like it’s taking a massive effort for him to force them out. Lizwi is listening as if he’s making sense.
“And Tata,” Leoli is saying. “The First Keeper. We brought his message. And then, Ricochet?”
She still has her famous forearm graft, golden fur spotted with beautiful rosettes.
Halo is also old enough to remember. I look at her. She’s watching Leoli, waiting for more.
“I’m not sure,” Ricochet says.
They’re words that should make him frown, or chew his lip, trying to remember. Those things don’t happen.
It’s as if something has wiped away everything real from his face – expression, personality, the lot. I have this thought that it’s like something rough has worked away at his features, softening edges, blunting what used to be sharply defined and handsome.
It’s the same with Leoli, I realise. She is smiling now, at Ricochet, but it’s bland, with nothing real behind it. A doll’s smile.
The security officers have stayed in the room, standing near the wide doorway, but they move in closer as Ril darts forward.
“We don’t understand you.” She’s impatient. “We came to see if you could tell us anything useful for when we go out. Safe places and things like that.”
“No. You said something about a mountain,” I growl. “What did you mean?”
“I’m sure they’ll explain if we just give them a chance.” Halo’s voice is too kind for it to be a reprimand.
“The mountain.” Leoli is dreamy.
“Yes, the mountain.” Ricochet is her echo.
“And what will be vouchsafed.”
“You really seem to like that word,” I say to Leoli to see if a bit of rudeness won’t jerk them out of their stupor or whatever it is.
She smiles at me. Nothing. I remember how the green fire of her eyes once dominated her face, how Ricochet’s black eyes gleamed and darted, noticing everything.
Now I’m seeing the eyes and faces of dead or dreaming people. It makes me uneasy, with a feeling of starting to understand something.
“The mountain,” Ricochet is saying. “You understand we can’t go with you? But we will give you directions as you travel. How will we keep in touch?”
“How did such different young people get together and decide to go to the Wildlands?” Leoli asks. “You didn’t use Controlled Communications Centres, did you?”
“Two of us, Jabz and me, we have these, our own texters –” Silver pulls out his black-and-silver texter to offer to Leoli. “But what’s all this about a mountain?”
“You