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teacup-crow · 3 years

Text

Things That Make it Warm

Zombies Run Secret Santa fic for @whirly-wind! Thanks for organising @runnerzero, @goblinsharkz and @notforconsumption. Spoilers up to S5M24 below the cut :)

Hi Mystery! I was so so so excited to get you because you’re always lovely about my writing, especially my Tom/Jody stuff 😍 this is the story of them getting to know each other (with a Christmas involved, because Christmas is romantic right?)

Apologies that it starts off just a LITTLE bit angsty but it’s these two and angst just happens to them. A writer can only do so much. I promise there’s festive fluff in there!

I hope you enjoy this! Merry Christmas!

((Stole the title from a Cavetown song because I hate naming things!))

*****

“Jody’s running slowly, so she’ll give ‘em a good chase.”

She almost has to swallow a laugh at Sam’s sweet admiration. Jody’s running slowly because everything hurts, because this idea is crazy, because it might be the last run ever gazing at an Abel sunrise, orange and pink flecking the horizon, and she wants to see it before-

Boom. The explosion rattles her teeth, her bones, smoke rising behind her. She doesn’t look back. She knows better.

“Miss Marsh! To me!”

Tom grabs her hand and before she can process anything at all they’re sprinting. Her heart and lungs are burning; it’s been months since she ran like this, weeks since her muscles atrophied, and the pain shoots through her legs at every step until she feels nauseous. But they’re running. At some point, she lets the bundle fall from stiff arms, a pile of empty blankets. Tom whispers something, and vanishes into the dust he created.

***

“We are not leaving you here.”

“Ian won’t kill me. He knows I still have some useful things inside my broken noggin.” His smile is lopsided, his eyes slightly glittery. Jody doesn’t know him that well, really, but that look has never been a good one on him. She pats his arm, and it dulls a little. She leaves her hand there.

“Isn’t that a reason to get you out?”

He swallows. “I can’t… I can’t promise that I’ll…”

“You saved my life. You’re coming with us.”

She knows, even though his sister might protest out loud, that Janine is grateful to her for making the call. She knows her so well she can hear that the woman’s shoulders have dropped just a bit in relief.

***

Tom likes Noah Base.

It’s warm, and enclosed, and safe. He can feel the presence of walls around him at all times. When he whistles, it echoes. It’s familiar.

When he was younger, being inside used to bore him silly. Paperwork was the worst part of the job; as a boy, Jane did his homework more often than not. Back in Karachi, the memories warm and soft as parchment, he’d play football with the neighbourhood kids late into the night, everyone teasing but good-natured, curious about the white boy who spoke Urdu like a local. The calls of other boys’ mothers rang out as the day grew long until at last they’d scatter at the figure of his father, the ambassador cutting a long shadow across the evening, rumbling “Thomas? Thomas? Time to come home.”

A couple of years later, he lay out on the family’s broad flat roof, breathless - hiding from his sister so she wouldn’t see him crying about their parents, about being ripped away from everything and everyone they knew. Hiding from the men from the embassy, so he couldn’t hear the bad news. So they couldn’t take him to England. Outside there were birds soaring above him, the sun shining like any other day. He didn’t have to confront reality.

And after that, inside meant dull lessons at boarding school far away from Jane, where he actually had to concentrate to keep at the top of the class, and inside meant stuffy offices with stuffy bureaucrats who would never understand the realities of field work no matter how often they were explained, and then inside was three bare walls of concrete and agony and time.

When the open air was no longer a choice, when life became nothing but a cube, six by six, lights off more often than on, inside became more comforting. There, nobody could sneak up behind him. It was easy to keep one eye open. If you stay in the corner, you’re never surrounded. It’s outside where things go horribly wrong. Outside is where the crawling men eat human flesh. Outside is where Jane and the others left him behind.

And so, years later, England again, he’d slip off his cuffs in his new cell and finally manage to relax enough to rebuild some of his sanity. He knew now that inside isn’t the problem. Being trapped there is.

Noah Base is safe. He can map out the whole place in his head, learn fourteen different escape routes, ranked from worst to best.

Noah Base is better than safe.

Noah Base has Jody in it.

***

Jody, for one, feels cooped up.

It’s okay, at first. Things were worse than this right after the outbreak. She’d stayed in a Tube station for a couple of nights, only peeking her head above ground to try and get decent reception to call her mum. When her phone gave up the ghost, she trekked it out of London. But sometimes, especially now, she still thinks of the noise, the irrepressible heat, sickness already spreading like wildfire.

It’s okay, at first. She knits. She stretches. Builds up her core strength again. Takes lectures on strategy. Starts to actually read Janine’s notes, to Sam’s disgust. She keeps positive as morale begins to drop, until one morning she doesn’t get out of bed at all.

Tom arrives at her door with a plate of cold toast and strawberry jam.

“You weren’t at breakfast.”

Of course. He notices everything.

“I wasn’t hungry,” she replies, then bites her lip. If anything, the latest messages from Abel make her far too sick to eat. Steve, inexhaustibly flirtatious, convivial, suave Steve, had sounded shattered. Half-rations. Quarter-rations. Ian’s getting… more unbalanced. Kefi reckons half the town is anaemic.

“Come in if you like, I’m decent.”

“You need to eat something,” he insists, pushing the door ajar and handing the plate up to her. She sits up, back against the wall, and tries to give him a wobbly smile.

“What’s the matter, Miss Marsh?”

“I just… can’t believe we left them.”

And she bursts into tears. He pats her arm.

He doesn’t rationalise anything to her.

He thinks that, just maybe, it’s worse to be the leaver than the left.

***

She’s so strong.

He watches her with a bow and arrow hit one- two- three targets in the centre, more accurate and deadly than his own hand with a pistol. She swings up the climbing frame like a monkey, upside down and ten feet in the air. The gym in Noah Base is cramped - what isn’t? - but training is manageable with the lack of equipment to fill the space. Peter - the man who found them this place, the man with the silver tongue, the man who hurt his sister - is at the weights. He’s always in Tom’s peripheral vision; Jane only puts him there to keep an eye, he knows that.

“Whoop!” Jody swings down from the ropes triumphantly and rolls to a halt. He clicks the stopwatch.

“One-forty-seven. Your fastest time yet, Miss Marsh. That was excellent.”

“You can stop calling me that any time you like, you know.”

“Nonsense. What would I call you then?”

She looks up at him, quite serious. He’s maybe a foot taller than she is. He’s a madman. A murderer. But there’s not an ounce of fear in her gaze, not anymore. When her hair is tied back like that, he can see her face properly, the fading freckles, soft straight hair, her laughing eyes, the cleft in her chin, the birthmark on her cheek.

“...Jody’s fine, Tom.”

“I… yes.” He blinks away in embarrassment. “If you would prefer that name. Yes.”

“Not if it makes you uncomfortable. Anyway, I’m going to try that again. I just know I can beat you.”

“And then you’ll take a break?”

“We’ll see,” she grins, and jogs back to the start.

She’s not only physically strong; she’s been through so much and she hasn’t let it harden her. She looks at every new day like an opportunity, a sunrise, swallowing back the bitter pill of life with orange juice. Not like him. He’s so far past broken he doesn’t even remember what wholeness tastes like; some important part of his soul still lies in that cage, rotting. So how can he be falling in love?

***

It just doesn’t feel like Christmastime.

The last few Christmases have fallen into some kind of routine, at least. They were bare and hard but everyone was together, kids faces lighting up as they decorated the township, people working together to make it as okay as possible. A bit more frivolity, a bit more food.

It’s December already, and nobody has even mentioned it.

Steve hasn’t sent a message in a good while, and the radio silence is making all of them itchy. Five’s been gone for weeks; Cameo’s probably dead. Everyone she cares about is probably-

“Jodes? Can you help me with this?”

It’s Tom, sprawled on his stomach on her bedroom floor, attempting to darn a sock and failing miserably. She laughs.

“They didn’t have darning as a class at Harrow?”

“Not that I remember, but I can recite some Latin at you if you’d like.”

“That sounds extremely helpful.” She swings down from the bunk and looks closer. “Have you just been tying knots in this?”

“I was trying to…” he stares at the sock in his hands with a rueful expression. “It appears that yes, I have just been tying knots in it.”

“Okay,” she sits down cross-legged and takes it from him to start unpicking. “At least you’re honest.”

“Where did you learn to sew and knit?”

“Our church hall ran a youth club. They’d do snacks and activities after school most days, and Mum always liked us out doing something; there were four of us and she didn’t want us under her feet all afternoon. I was a big fan of the needlework table. Who knew it would come in so handy, hey?”

“I have underestimated it.”

He rests his chin on his hands, intently watching her work. Her fingers are so small and quick compared to his. Her gaze flits between the sock and his face. It’s weathered and worn but she still sees warmth and handsomeness there, between the cracks in his scarred armour. The way he’s kept an eye on her every day since that breakfast, just to make sure she’s holding up. She shakes her head, and passes it back to him.

She can’t fall in love with Janine’s brother.

***

It’s the day before Christmas Eve, and Sam hasn’t let Five out of his sight for more than two consecutive hours since they got back to Noah Base, his hand stuck to theirs with glue. They’d normally protest this, but yet another dusting of horror and shadow under their eyes has cut their counterargument short. They nod to Jody when they see her request, and make some excuse about going to ask Janine about work assignments, hobbling a little on a twisted ankle. She appreciates it.

“Sam! Finally got you alone for a minute!”

“Jody! What can I do for you?”

He’s almost himself again, grinning at her from the chaotic comms desk that he’s tacked a bit of tinsel to. She can nearly forget the sound of his screaming last week when Five practically died in that godforsaken maze. It turns out nobody is better at picking up and piecing back together than Sam Yao.

“How did you know that… how did you…”

She pushes the door closed, and clears her throat. “How did you know that you liked Five?”

His grin broadens. “Jody, you like someone?”

“Shut up.”

“I thought you didn’t have crushes!”

“I didn’t. I don’t. Well, maybe I do. I don’t know!”

“Well, describe it to me.”

“It’s like…” God, his smile is dopey. “Stop looking at me like that, Sam, you’re putting me off! It’s like… every time I look at him I feel warm, and the world feels a little bit softer, more yellow, and I just want to protect him. Like, I’d die happy if I knew he’d be safe. And his face. His jawline. I… you’re giggling!”

“Tell me more, tell me more!”

She lobs a stack of rotas at him half-heartedly. He ducks.

“He’s just… so clever and so kind. And he’s still hurting, and I wish he would stop.” She sighs, warming to her theme. “Janine will go mad with me if she hears about it.”

Sam’s face goes slack with shock. “Oh my God. You like Peter?”

“Jesus Christ, Sam, no! I like Tom!”

“Oh, that makes so much more sense!” He chuckles, and then adds: “You do know he’s still a bit...”

“And Five isn’t?”

It comes out defensive, and she immediately wishes she’d bit her tongue, but he doesn’t get annoyed. He shrugs.

“You’re right, Five isn’t well either. Both of them have been through… stuff we can’t even imagine. Done things that people maybe shouldn’t forgive.”

“Who hasn’t.” Jody says darkly.

“Exactly. Their hearts are in the right place, but… just be careful, Jodes.”

Lines like but he would never hurt me and things are different now are not lines she likes to have run through her head. She heard those lines often enough as a little girl, when her brother Cameron was still in nappies and she herself barely out of them but already knowing they were lies. Her mum’s taste in men had got better by the time she’d had the twins, but Jody didn’t forget. She’d vowed to never, ever need anyone that volatile that much.

And yet - here she is.

“So. How’d you know you liked Five?”

“I just,” he flushes. “One day I woke up and just knew. My heart belonged to them. I couldn’t get it back. When they’re not around… it hurts.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s it. Oh Sam, what am I going to do?”

“You could just tell him?”

“Yeah. No.” She swings around in the office chair as she talks. “What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if I make him uncomfortable? He’s going through a lot still, deep down, and I don’t want to add to it, or put him under any pressure.”

“He’s a six foot three MI6 Commander, Jodes, I somehow don’t think you’ll be pressuring him into anything.”

“I suppose... but you keep your mouth closed, no matter what, okay? I don’t want to hear this anywhere outside of this room.”

“Just tell him you like him!” Sam calls after her as she heads back down the corridor.

***

“You’re coming to me for advice about women?”

Tom’s already realised that this was probably a bad idea, but he can’t exactly back out now. “I mean? Jane likes you.”

“Janine’s Janine. She’s… well, I know she’s your sister but she’s not like other women.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, she’s…” he’s flustered. “She’s amazing.”

“And other women aren’t amazing?”

“Fair point, fair point,” he raises his hands.

Tom runs a hand through his hair. It’s thinning. When did he get old? So much of his youth was wasted.

“Jody is beautiful and talented and so good. She’s got this… hope about her. This luck. I feel like nothing could truly go wrong when I’m beside her.”

Peter nods. “And what does she think?”

“I have no idea, but she can do a lot better than me. She’s seen me ranting and raving out of my wits, and I’m ten years older, and… just look at me, Pete. I’m mostly scar tissue.”

Peter does, up and down.

“You’re very good looking to me, Colonel,” he winks at last. Tom snorts. Maybe the bloke isn’t so bad.

“You must have had relationships before, though? Surely? The way Janine always put it you’d think you were James Bond. A different person on your arm every day of the week.”

“I mean, I did. Of course. Lots of people. Nothing serious, but… that was so long ago. Before… before my head became a mess. When I could tell truth from lie as easy as up from down. These days, I’m not even sure if you’re in front of me. If I squint, I might lose you completely.”

Peter doesn’t know what to say to that. Tom’s introspective seriousness has always made him uncomfortable.

“Anyway, enough of all that rambling. I’m going to give her this.” He proffers a wicked-looking weapon. “For Christmas, I mean. Do you think she’ll like it?”

“An automatic crossbow?” Peter whistles. “Romantic. Right up her alley. She’ll love it.”

He nods in gratitude. “I appreciate you listening. Before you ask, Janey will love the ringbinder full of poetry you put together.”

“How did you know about that!” Peter is ashen, mortified.

“The name’s Bond, James Bond.” Tom throws the line over his shoulder as he wanders away.

***

Their Christmas is a quiet one, but perhaps more festive than anyone expected. Someone dims the base’s lights with crepe paper, and Amelia emerges from her quarters with a bottle of champagne. “Not as a gift, you understand,” she impresses firmly, “but as a service to myself. Being around you lot is making me bloody miserable. Put some smiles on, for once!”

Someone else has found a flock of wild geese and thanks to Jody’s crossbow the residents of Noah Base feast like Victorian paupers made kings. Janine taps her glass, makes a speech about times being tough and the importance of finding the things to celebrate. “I salute you all for your fortitude and bravery. This time next year, we will be with our friends and families again. It’s only a matter of time before we take our home back.” She’s got good at these at this point. They all raise a cheer, at least.

Tom and Jody talk long into the evening about everything they can think of that isn’t the last decade. Childhood stories, mostly: Tom and his football friends accidentally crashing a wedding and causing a minor diplomatic incident; the prank war with next door that Jody and her brothers got into one summer; Tom, Janine and General Bakari’s three-way chess matches; Jody nearly burning the house down attempting to make her mum breakfast in bed. Debates over Doctor Who episodes lead into arguments over the best Quality Street chocolate until they’re the last people still awake.

“D’you believe in God?” She asks, at some point, hazy under piles of blankets in front of the heater they’ve powered for the occasion. He’s wearing the new jumper she made him (“I’m sorry it’s bottle green, it was the only wool we had enough of but it’ll bring out your eyes, I reckon”) and leafing through the pamphlet of beginners knitting patterns she’d painstakingly copied out and tucked inside it.

He chews his lip, lost in thought, his mind straying back to Algeria even as he takes her hand in the present. “No. I used to. I was a chorister when I was a boy.”

“Seriously? One of those ones in Westminster Abbey? My mum always used to listen to them!”

“Yes! I loved it!” He laughs. “Only did the Christmas service once, though. I got bronchitis the next year, and after that my voice broke. But it was the first time I started enjoying life in England. When we stepped outside after the service, that was also the first time I saw snow. I thought it was a miracle. Janey told me not to be so ridiculous, so I put a snowball down the back of her coat.”

“I can’t get over how posh you are. Did you have to wear robes?” It’s the biggest he’s seen her smile in ages. He laughs again at the look on her face.

“Yes, I had to wear robes.”

“If there are no photos left of this, I’ll never forgive your sister.”

“What about you? Why did you ask about God?”

“I don’t know: I was just wondering. True meaning of Christmas, and all that. I used to think at the start of all this that if He did exist, he must have a pretty sick sense of humour. But I’m not sure, I don’t think it’s all that black and white anymore. Maybe He’s just tired of us.”

“Perhaps He’s on a long holiday. He’ll check in next millenia. Until then, we’ll have to figure it out for ourselves.”

She falls asleep not long after that, her head on his chest. He loves her so much his ribs ache.

Maybe there is a God, if a feeling like this can exist. If the two of them can find each other, despite everything. If he can leave so much behind, and lose so much, and still be so happy.

#zombies run #zr #tom de luca #Jody Marsh #zrs5 #zrs5 spoilers #zr secret santa #Noah base Christmas and Christmas 2020 have the same energy #zr secret santa 2020

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visa1051 · 6 years

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I was thinking about how the dérive was an invitation to wander mentally, as much as it was to wander physically. I thought about other strange psychological states we occupy which facilitate the kind of unconstrained, free association that the dérive seems to encourage, in particular hypnagogia - the state immediately bordering sleep.

I thought about works which I feel are particularly good at expressing this state. Perhaps Virginia Woolf’s The Waves. Famously, James Joyce’s Ulysses. So many of Samuel Beckett’s works. I thought about how words were used as signposts to a runaway thought process, and how in texts like these meaning often exists between the words more than in them.

I decided logorrhoea was an interesting way to dérive, and so I recorded a monologue, a conversation with myself (sometimes addressed to an imagined listener) as I wandered for an hour.

I then transcribed the monologue. I omitted all punctuation to remove major signposts to structure between the words. I set the entire text in upper case as a stylistic choice; it makes the language less human, it feels relentless, and I think it’s vaguely comedic (maybe pessimistically so).

The result was a five thousand eight hundred and twenty word tirade which I will place, mercifully, at the end of this post beneath a “read more” (if you dare).

I discarded the original audio - I prefer the looseness of the prepared text.

I wanted the map to be a visual work, ultimately, so I set the text onto a poster, thusly:

Set in a monospaced font and compacted to accentuate the grid (and again remove some humanity). The text is represented twice on the poster. First, as the directly transcribed monologue, and then again with the words rearranged in alphabetical order. The first is narrative to some extent, the second gives an index of the ideas, subjects and topics to which I returned over the hour.

I had the poster printed, and then while reading the text back I free-handed a red line as a kind of mud map, tracing out my memory of the path I took as I reread my thoughts.

The overwhelming nature of the text encourages a fragmented and disorganised reading, which is a nice parallel to the dérive. The red line provides one possible path through the words, although entirely arbitrary.

Below the fold: the whole monologue transcript.

OKAY SO DÉRIVE JUST ABOUT TWO O’CLOCK LOOKING AT FANS CIRCLES BELTS GRIDS LINES GOING ACROSS PLANTS LOCKED INSIDE STARTING TO RAIN WHICH I DON’T FIND PARTICULARLY PROMISING I DON’T MIND TELLING YOU IF YOU’RE LISTENING THROUGH GLASS PLANTS LABELS PAPER WHEAT MAYBE DON’T REALLY KNOW WHAT WHEAT LOOKS LIKE WHEN IT’S NOT BREAD AN HOUR ISH SPEAKING TO MYSELF WALKING NOT PARTICULARLY GOOD FOR IMPRESSIONS OF SANITY BUT I SUPPOSE MAYBE I’VE NEVER CULTIVATED AN EXCEPTIONAL ONE ANYWAY RECENTLY MAYBE THERE’S BEEN IMPROVEMENT KINDA LOOKS LIKE THE INSIDE OF CARDBOARD AND FEELS LIKE I SHOULD NOT TOUCH IT MM I DO LIKE THIS STRANGE COMBINATION OF TECHNOLOGY AND NATURE IT’S A LITTLE BIT OMINOUS YOU KNOW THEY’RE UP TO SOMETHING IN THERE BUT YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT LOTS OF WHIRRING WHICH I ENJOY IMPLIES ER MACHINERY WHICH IS NICE LITTLE ROBOT FANS PERIODIC MACHINERY USUALLY IMPLIES SOME SORT OF WEIRD CIRCULAR STRUCTURE WHICH IS NICE MATHEMATICALLY LIGHT THROUGH THE GLASS OH NO STRANGERS STRANGERS AND SELF TALK SELF CONSCIOUS I WONDER WHY THIS IS PROBABLY NOT OF GREAT CONSEQUENCE I DON’T KNOW THE NAMES OF AS MANY PLANTS AS PERHAPS I WOULD LIKE TO BUT THEN WHO DOES BOTANISTS PROBABLY KNOW MORE PLANT NAMES THAN THEY CARE TO DAMNED IF YOU DO DAMNED IF YOU DON’T THERE’S A LITTLE SEAM HERE SOMEONE GOT IN OR OUT DON’T REALLY KNOW WHAT ONE TALKS TO ONESELF ABOUT NOT PARTICULARLY IN FAVOUR OF LANGUAGE IN GENERAL VERY SPECIFIC AND YET ST THE SAME TIME COMPLETELY USELESS AT ACTUALLY REFERRING TO ANYTHING OH LOOK IT’S A ROSE IT IS HIDEOUSLY COLOURED BRIGHT RED AGGRESSIVELY BRIGHT RED NOT REALLY PINK JUST DISTASTEFULLY RED THE LAST HIGHLIGHTER ON THE SHELF COLOUR WONDER WHAT THE PLANTS INSIDE FEEL LIKE PRISONERS MAYBE BIRDS STRANGE LITTLE ROBOTS AGAIN NOISY ONES NOISY ROBOTS THERE IS A LARGE AMOUNT OF CONCRETE HERE AND I LIKE IT QUITE A LOT BORE WATER STAINING WHICH I ALSO FIND VERY APPEALING I SUPPOSE IT’S AN ACQUIRED TASTE YOU FIND IT SO MANY PLACE THIS WOULD MAKE A GOOD PHOTOGRAPH IF I HAD A CAMERA I DON’T I HAVE MY PHONE PHONE CAMERAS DON’T DO IT MY PHONE CAMERA CERTAINLY DOESN’T DO IT AT ALL I WONDER WHAT’S IN HERE GOOD I’LL TALK TO MYSELF AND PEER THROUGH A WINDOW WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG PLEASE KEEP THIS DOOR CLOSED IMPORTANT MM I WONDER WHY I WONDER WHAT THIS BUILDING IS RIGHT YES TALKING TO MYSELF I DON’T HAVE ANY PROBLEM REALLLLLLY TALKING TO OTHER PEOPLE ANIMAL BIOLOGY DON’T SUPPOSE MY CARD GETS ME IN HERE FRESHWATER AND MARINE AQUARIUM RESEARCH FACILITY RICK ROBERTS HMM I DEFINITELY AM UNAUTHORISED ACCESS AUTHORITY THIS IS A POOL A TUB YES IT’S A TUB WITH A WINDOW IT’S A WINDOWED TUB IT’S UPSIDE DOWN YOU CAN’T SEE IT YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE IT’S MASSIVE IT’S BIGGER THAN ME BESOW OH KEEP CLOSED FOR YOUR FLY PROTECTION TO KEEP MY FLY SAFE I WONDER WHICH ONE SILO AAND GRASS UNPOPULATED GRASS LOVELY SAFE LARGE MACHINE INSIDE A CAGE I DON’T KNOW WHY THEY FELT LIKE THEY HAD TO LOCK IT UP KEEP PEOPLE OUT RATHER THAN KEEP IT IN I SUPPOSE IT’S VERY ER SHAUN TAN LOOKS LIKE A PIG BIG PIG WHICH ARE TWO WORDS WHICH ARE FUN TO PUT TOGETHER OH AND LOOK THERE’S THE RIVER WHICH IS DEFINITELY NOT WHERE I ANTICIPATED IT BEING NOT PARTICULARLY PROMISING FOR MY SENSE OF DIRECTION ALTHOUGH I SUPPOSE IN SOME SENSE WE’RE ALL LOST I SUPPOSE THAT I’LL BE TRANSCRIBING THIS SO I’LL HAVE TO INVENT SOME KIND OF MARK THAT INDICATES MY ER AFFECTATIONS WHEN I EMPLOY THEM ALTHOUGH EVEN NOW MY GUARD IS UP BECAUSE YOU’RE LISTENING AREN’T YOU WELL YOU’RE NOT LISTENING YOU’RE READING MAYBE YOU’RE READING MAYBE YOU’VE GIVEN UP HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN WHO KNOWS I PROBABLY WOULD LIKE TO LOOK BUT ONE ASSUMES THAT’S CONTRARY TO THE WHOLE EXERCISE REALLY I WONDER IF I’M STILL RECORDING OH YES OH DEAR IT ALSO TOLD ME HOW LONG I’VE BEEN RECORDING FOR BUT DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT MM DO HOPE THE WIND DOESN’T INTERFERE TOO SEVERELY ALTHOUGH MAYBE IT WILL I WONDER IF THIS HAS JUST BEEN CLIPPING THE WHOLE TIME NO SEEMS TO BE FIIIIIIINE MM MAYBE I WON’T BE ABLE TO UNDERSTAND MYSELF WOULD BE A NICE EXERCISE RIGHT CARS YES CARS CARS CARS CARS CARS WHERE DO THEY COME FROM AND WHAT DO THEY DO THERE IS A STRANGE LITTLE KNOBBLY THING ON THIS TREE WHICH I KNOW MUST BE SOME KIND OF DISEASE I JUST WONDER IF IT HAS A TINY INSECT INSIDE IT PROBABLY DISGUSTING DISGUSTING DISGUSTING NATURE WE’RE ALL A PART OF IT AND YOU CAN NEVER ESCAPE OH HELLO BIRD I’M APPROACHING THE BIRD FOR INTERVIEW IT’S LEAVING IT DOESN’T WANT TO BE INTERVIEWED WHERE DID YOU GO OH YOU’RE JUST THERE JUST ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE TREE OH NO HE’S LEAVING NOW HE’S LORDING IT OVER ME FROM A GREAT HEIGHT AND I AM CONTINUING ONWARDS OVER LEAVES TALKING KIND OF DRAWS THE MIND AWAY REALLY FROM WHAT’S ACTUALLY GOING ON MAYBE NOT I MEAN REALLY WHAT IS GOING ON OUTSIDE OR INSIDE MAYBE BOTH AFFECTATION ER INDICATORS PLACED THERE PLEASE MAYBE A TILDE WHICH RECENTLY HAS COME TO MEAN A STRIKETHROUGH IN SOME MESSAGING PLATFORMS QUITE IRRITATING WE DO LIKE THE TILDE WE ALSO LIKE THE TILDA LOVELY TILDA SWINTON IT’S ALSO A BRAND OF RICE THERE IS NO RICE WHERE I AM ALTHOUGH I SUPPOSE IT’S QUITE ACCESSIBLE THIS IS DEFINITELY I COULD BRING RICE HERE BUT THERE IS NO RICE HERE NOT RIGHT NOW CULTIVATED NATURE HMM OLD TREE DRY DOESN’T QUITE LOOK DEAD BUT DEFINITELY A BIT HAGGED PLEASINGLY HAGGED PLEASANTLY SO YELLOW FLOWERS VERY NATIVE I FEEL PATRIOTIC MAYBE THIS WON’T WORK IN WRITING WELL MAYBE IT WILL MAYBE IT WILL BE IMPROVED SO MUCH TOO CLOSE TO OTHER PEOPLE HAD BETTER GO AWAY TRYING NOT TO KEEP THE PACE UP DOESN’T FEEL GOOD I CAN’T REALLY BE BOTHERED TO DESCRIBE IT MORE DEEPLY THAN THAT THERE’S A FLY ON ME GO AWAY BE GONE TALKING TO ANIMALS IT’S A FUNNY ONE I WONDER HOW THEY FEEL ABOUT IT WELL GOOD I SEEM TO BE LOST WELL NO I MEAN WHO’S EVER REALLY LOST CROSS REFERENCE MY EARLIER COMMENTS HMM TOO MANY CYCLISTS HERE WELL TWO CYCLISTS HERE WHICH IS AT LEAST ONE TOO MANY OH LOOK GUMNUTS I’VE NEVER SEEN THEM GROW IN SUCH CONCENTRATION I ALWAYS JUST FIND THEM ON THE GROUND IT’S LIKE A GRAPE VINE EXCEPT IT’S NOT A VINE IT’S A TREE AND THERE ARE NO GRAPES SO IS IT LIKE A GRAPE VINE YOU BE THE JUDGE WELL I MEAN YOU CAN’T SEE IT AND EVEN IF YOU WERE BEING THE JUDGE I WOULDN’T REALLY CARE TO HEAR YOUR OPINION HE’S GOING MUCH TOO FAST BUT THEN NOW HE’S GONE THE FASTER THEY GO THE FASTER THEY’RE GONE HMM I WONDER IF THAT MEANS TWO DIFFERENT THINGS OR IF I JUST SAID THE SAME THING TWICE OR IF I JUST SAID THE SAME THING TWICE OR IF I JUST SAID THE SAME THING THRICE WELL THIS IS DEFINITELY A BACK AREA AND PEOPLE TEND TO BE SUSPICIOUS OF PEOPLE IN BACK AREAS PARTICULARLY WHEN THEY’RE CARRYING MICROPHONES AND SPEAKING TO THEMSELVES WELL ACTUALLY I DON’T KNOW I HAVEN’T HAVEN’T REALLY EVER SPOKEN TO ANYBODY ABOUT THAT BUT I SUSPECT THAT THEY WOULD BE SMELLS LIKE CHLORINE OH LOOK YES IT’S AN AQUATIC CENTRE WEST ENTRANCE DANGER THERE’S DEEP WATER HERE WELL THERE’S CERTAINLY A POOL AND SOME SPIDER WEBS NOT IN THE SAME PLACE MAYBE IN THE SAME PLACE NOT TO MY KNOWLEDGE IF I HAVE ANY OF THAT PLENTY OF TREES IT’S NICE YOU DON’T KNOW HOW MANY TREES YOU DON’T HAVE UNTIL THEY’RE NOT THERE WAIT NO HMM THAT’S NOT QUITE RIGHT OH IT’S A TICKET MACHINE LET’S INTERVIEW IT *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* NOT PARTICULARLY TALKATIVE IT’S TELLING ME TO REFER TO THE SIGNS THEY SAY NO PARKING STRANGE PLACE TO PUT A TICKET MACHINE OR AT LEAST ONE WHO TELLS ME TO REFER TO THE SIGNS OH LOOK HERE’S SOMEONE TALKING TO HIMSELF AS WELL HE’S TALKING TO A A TELEPHONE AND BY EXTENSION TO SOMEBODY ELSE I DON’T KNOW HOW TO TRANSLATE TRAGICALLY I DON’T THINK ER HMM HERE’S A CAR PARK IT DOES LOOK NICE AND I AM TEMPTED TO SIT AND STAY BUT I’M NOT GOING TO BECAUSE I AM NOT SUFFICIENTLY TEMPTED AHH I AM LOOKING AT FLOWERS I DON’T KNOW HOW CLEAR Y MEMORY OF THESE FLOWERS WILL BE WHEN I LISTEN TO THIS BACK WRITE THE WORDS DOWN I WONDER WHAT KIND OF FLOWERS YOU THINK I’M LOOKING AT I BET YOU’RE WRONG FOR THE RECORD BECAUSE THESE FLOWERS GROW ON TREES YOU WERE THINKING A BUSH WEREN’T YOU SOMETHING LOW TO THE GROUND MAYBE THEY WERE AT EYE HEIGHT DESCENDING FLOWERS OH LOOK THIS TREE HAS A NUMBER AH ZERO TWO SIX ONE ONE LOVELY IT’S BEEN BLEEDING AS WELL IT’S A BLEEDING TREE MM EARLY CHILDHOOD EDUCATION WHAT IS EDUCATION INDOCTRINATION MAYBE WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU TEACHERS ARE YOU LISTENING ARE YOU READING I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING AH NONE OF US KNOW WHAT WE’RE DOING MAYBE YOU DO MAYBE YOU FEEL LIKE YOU DO PAPOOSE I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS I READ IT I READ IT ON A TOTEM POLE I WALKED PAST A TOTEM POLE THAT HAD THE WORD PAPOOSE ON IT SO I SAID THE WORD PAPOOSE IT’S A GOOD WORD REMINDS ME OF VAMOOSE VAMOOSE VAAMOOSE VUH SCHWA WUH MOOSE VUUUHHHMOOSE HMM OH THE RAINE STUDY THAT’S INTERESTING IT’S THAT UH LIKE SEVEN UP FOR SCIENTISTS ISN’T IT I IMAGINE YES THAT’S RIGHT GIRL CROSS THE ROAD FEAR THE MUMBLER CENTRE FOR SLEEP SCIENCE SHOULD SIGN UP OH LOOK THERE’S A NOTICE BOARD NO IT’S A SWITCH BOARD DOES IT HAVE A WALKIE TALKIE IN IT MAYBE FOR SPEAKING TO PEOPLE IN THEIR SLEEP IN THEIR DREAMS AH NO IT’S AN EVACUATION CONTROL POINT THIS IS EXCITING HMM NO IT’S NOT EXCITING AT ALL OH BUT THE FIRE WELL I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT IS WHAT IS THAT LITTLE BOX HOW CRAZY IS THE ASIAN LANGUAGE WHEN IT’S WRITTEN SO COMPLICATED OR AT LEAST SO INACCESSIBLE TO ME WHICH CLEARLY MEANS THAT IT’S FAR TOO COMPLICATED I AM THE EVERYMAN OH I SEEM TO HAVE DONE SOMETHING OF A LOOP IT’S A DRAIN IT IS DEEPER THAN I AM TALL OH HERE’S ANOTHER BIRD LET’S SEE IF HE’LL BE INTERVIEWED HE’S LOOKING ANXIOUS AS I APPROACH ALTHOUGH NOT AS ANXIOUS AS I WOULD LIKE WHAT HAVE YOU GOT IS IT A A FRUIT IS IT A NUT HE’S HE’S HOLDING SOMETHING LARGE IN HIS BEAK HE DOESN’T WANT TO BE SPOKEN TO I CAN SEE OH THERE ARE TWO OF THEM OH THEY BOTH HAVE NUTS WHERE ARE THE NUTS COMING FROM WHAT IS THIS I FOUND A FRUIT I DON’T KNOW WHAT KIND OF FRUIT THIS IS IT IS GREEN AND IT IS HMM THE LENGTH OF MY PINKY FINGER THOSE OF YOU WHO ARE MY GOOD FRIENDS WILL KNOW EXACTLY HOW LONG THE FRUIT IS IT IS RELATIVELY SOFT KINDA TURNS BLACK WHEN I APPLY PRESSURE TO IT AND I’M PUTTING IT ON THE GROUND AND THEN I STOOD ON IT HMM YES IT IS A FRUIT BUT WHAT KIND OF FRUIT I CANNOT AY I SHOULD PROBABLY JUST LOOK UP I DON’T THINK IT’S THE FRUIT OF THIS TREE NO IT’S NOT I’M QUITE CERTAIN IT’S NOT AH NO LOOK IT’S THE FRUIT OF OF THIS TREE YES THERE ARE MANY OF THEM AH THIS BIRD IS CONTRIBUTING TO THE INTERVIEW HE’S STILL HOLDING THE SEED IN HIS MOUTH HE’S WALKING AWAY THAT’S ALL WE’RE GETTING FROM HIM QUIET FELLOW SOMEBODY’S RUNNING TOWARDS ME RELATIVE DISTANCE NOT A CONFIDENT RUNNER WHY’S HE RUNNING IT’S SUNDAY UH OH SHOULDN’T HAVE SAID THAT LEAVING MY DÉRIVE TO THE LAST DAY TOO MUCH TO THINK ABOUT HE’S GONE NOW MORE PEOPLE DEFINITELY WALKING IN THE DIRECTION OF MORE PEOPLE WHICH IS INTERESTING I DON’T WANT TO BE AROUND PEOPLE BETTER TAKE THIS PATH HERE WHICH WOULD SEEM TO PROMISE TO LEAD AWAY FROM PEOPLE AH I CAN SEE MY REFLECTION IN A MIRROR WELL IT’S NOT A MIRROR IT’S A WINDOW BUT SUCH ARE THE CONDITIONS THAT I CAN SEE THAT BIRD JUST FLEW INTO A WALL WHY DID YOU DO THAT SIR WHY DID YOU DO THAT NOT REALLY AS AFRAID OF PEOPLE AS I’D LIKE HIM TO BE WHY DID YOU DO THAT SIR HE’S WALKING AWAY IF I WAS A CURRENT AFFAIR REPORTER I WOULD CHASE HIM TRACEY GRIMSHAW WAS SHE EVER A REPORTER OR DID SHE JUST HOST IT INTEGRITY INTEGRITY INTEGRITY GOD DAMN IT PEOPLE EVERYWHERE THIS BIT THAT PROMISES TO BE SILENT IS NOT SILENT I AM NOT SILENT THERE WILL BE NO SILENCE OR THERE CANNOT BE OH THIS IS A NICE BIT NICE BIT SHOULD HAVE CAPTIALS IF IT DOESN’T GO BACK AND DO IT AGAIN OR JUST WRITE THE NEXT TIME I SAY IT I’LL SAY IT AGAIN SO YOU KNOW IT NEEDS CAPITALS NICE BIT THIS IS A NICE BIT OH GOD I MEAN WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT ALPACAS LLAMAS PEOPLE TEND TO HAVE A PREFERENCE FOR LLAMAS ALTHOUGH ALPACAS ARE FAR CUTER THE LLAMA WAS JUST POPULARISED SO WELL BY DISNEY’S THE EMPEROR’S NEW GROOVE THERE’S A VERY NICE UM SITUATION GOING ON HERE WITH SOME PALE POURED CONCRETE AND PALE GREEN LEAVES IT LOOKS VERY GOOD I SHOULD TELL YOU THAT IT’S OVERCAST SO THE LIGHT ISN’T PARTICULARLY HARSH IT’S VERY GENTLE THIS IS A GENTLE SPACE OH GOOD IT’S JUST OUTSIDE A TOILET MM YES AS ALL THE NICE SPACES ARE I HAVE THIS SUSPICION WHICH I SHOULD TELL YOU ABOUT AND IT’S THAT I’M BEING FOLLOWED FOR I HEARD A NOISE BEHIND ME THAT SOUNDED LIKE A FOOTSTEP BUT OF COURSE IT’S RUDE TO TALK ABOUT BEING FOLLOWED IN CASE YOU ARE BEING FOLLOWED YOU DON’T WANT YOUR FOLLOWER TO BE SELF CONSCIOUS DO YOU HERE’S A STRANGE FRUIT OH THAT’S A REFERENCE TO LYNCHINGS STRANGE FRUIT BILLLIE HOLIDAY I THINK IT’S ACTUALLY NOT A PARTICULARLY STRANGE FRUIT I DON’T WANT TO EAT IT BECAUSE IT SMELLS VERY BAD IT’S VERY SMALL KINDA LOOKS LIKE A BEAN THERE’S A FUN WORD BEAN BEAN UH OH CAUGHT IN THE ACT OF SAYING BEAN I HOPE THAT YOU’RE ENTERTAINED BECAUSE I REALLY AM SUFFERING FOR THIS OH KANGAROO PAW THERE IS A FLOWER THAT IT TOOK ME HMM OH I WOULD SAY FIFTEEN YEARS TO COME AROUND TO BUT NOW THAT I’VE COME AROUND TO IT I DO LIKE IT A LOT SO MANY DIFFERENT COLOURS APPARENTLY THEY COME IN PURPLE ALTHOUGH I’M YET TO SEE IT OH I NEED SOME PLANTS MORE PLANTS IN ONE’S LIFE THIS CAMPUS IS NICE FOR THE BENEFIT OF PLANTS LOVELY PLANTS OH HERE’S ANOTHER NICE BIT THAT IS VERY DIFFERENT TO THE LAST NICE BIT THIS BIT’S MUCH MORE OPEN CROWS REALLY ARE OBNOXIOUS I THINK VERY RUDE BIRDS I’M GOING TO WALK THROUGH THE NICE BIT YOU KNOW I DON’T KNOW IF YOU CAN HEAR THE CROWS BUT I CAN ALWAYS UNENDING HMM I WONDER HOW MUCH OF A DERIVE IT IS IF YOU KIND OF KNOW WHERE YOU HAVE TO END UP OH LOOK LOOK HERE THIS IS NICE HERE’S A COAT HANGER IN A BUSH IT’S FOR TROUSERS OR A SKIRT IT’S A BOTTOM COAT HANGER WHEN I WORKED IN FASHION RETAIL SHOCKING TO LEARN I AM SURE WHEN I WORKED IN FASHION RETAIL THEY WERE CALLED CLIPPY HANGERS YOU WOULD KNOW WHAT I MEANT IF I SAID CLIPPY HANGER WOULDN’T YOU WELL HERE’S ONE IN A BUSH IT’S RUSTY IT’S QUITE A AUSTERE HANGER I’M PULLING IT OUT NOW HMM THE COAT HANGER POTENT SYMBOL THAT IT IS THIS ISN’T’ THE RIGHT KIND OF COAT HANGER FOR THE WHOLE MUMMY DEAREST SITUATION OH DEAR LISTEN TO THAT MM HOW DO YOU LIKE THE SOUND OF RUST ON RUST ‘CAUSE I DISLIKE IT IMMENSELY OH GOOD THEY’RE ADJUSTABLE SO I BET THAT I CAN MOVE THEM ONE OF THE WORST EXPERIENCES OF MY DAY SO FAR BUT IT HAS BEEN QUITE A NICE DAY REALLY HERE’S A WEED WEED YOU SHOULDN’T BE HERE YOU’LL BE KILLED SOON YOU’RE ALREADY TOO LARGE THEY DON’T LIKE YOU WEED YOU DON’T BELONG HERE YOU’RE AN IMMIGRANT IMMIGRANT WEED YOU MUST BE ELIMINATED OH LOOK LOOK AT THESE VERY BLUE BERRIES I BET YOU’RE POISONOUS I’M GONG TO SQUISH ONE BETWEEN MY FINGERS OOH OH MY GOOD THIS IS ONE OF THE MOST VIBRANTLY PURPLE BERRIES I’VE EVER SEEN IT DOESN’T SMELL VERY GOOD BUT IT COULD BE ANY OF THE PLANT BITS I’VE TOUCHED OR THE RUSTY HANGER I’M STILL HOLDING BEST TO PUT IT BACK IN A BUSH THERE WE ARE SIT IN THIS ER IT’S NOT REALLY A BOTTLE BRUSH IS IT OH GOD THERE ARE BEES HAVE A HANGER BEES DISAPPEARING BEES MIKE’S MEANT TO KNOW ABOUT BEES BEE MAN BEE MOVIE JERRY SEINFELD NEW YORK CITY MONK’S DINER COFFEE SAUCE BOTTLES MUSTARD BOTTLES YELLOW BOTTLE YELLOW PLASTIC BOTTLE MUST HAVE MUSTARD MUSTER POINT STRANGELY PLACED HIBISCUS VERY HAWAIIAN AREN’T THEY BY ASSOCIATION I ASSUME I’VE NEVER BEEN TO HAWAII MY DEAR MOTHER SPENT A NEW YEAR’S EVE ON HAWAII LUCKY HER I WAS NOT THERE WHERE WAS I I WONDER PERTH AT LEAST NOT MANY NOTABLE NEW YEARS ONE WATCHING THE PRODIGY PERFORM AT THE O2 ARENA CAN’T REMEMBER WHY THAT HAPPENED MUST HAVE GOT FREE TICKETS NOT SO INTO THE PRODIGY AS I MIGHT BE MORE BORE WATER STAINS THOSE LITTLE RAINBOWS KIND OF FORMING THROUGH THEM MORE BERRIES YELLOW THIS TIME I WILL PULL IT DOWN HERE IT IS AND I’LL SQUASH IT BETWEEN MY FINGERS OH IT CAN’T BE SQUASHED IT’S NOT REALLY A BERRY IT’S MORE OF A WELL ANOTHER FRUIT IT PROBABLY THINKS THE SAME ABOUT ME REALLY MM OH AND LOOK HERE’S A HOMUNCULUS ON A UNICYCLE DON’T REALLY NEED TO EXPLAIN THAT ONE TO YOU ANY MORE DO I SO AWARE THAT YOU’RE THERE I HOPE YOU’RE THERE IT MAKES ME FEEL A BIT LESS OH GOD THAT’S ENOUGH OF THAT OH LOOK IT’S ART IT’S ART BEHIND GLASS THE BEST KIND OF ART IT’S PEOPLE’S FACES AND SOME KIND OF PYRE A PYRE FOR FIRE THIS IS ALSO A NICE BIT I FIND MANY NICE BITS OR I HAVE FOUND MANY NICE BITS OH DEAR THIS SIN’T A WALKING DIRECTION OH NO IT’S FINE YES IT IS PEOPLE LOADING UP THEIR FOUR WHEEL DRIVE TWO SEEMS PLENTY FOR ME MAYBE I’LL GET A MOTORBIKE LICENSE OH INSIDE THIS MOST RECENT FRUIT A TINY BLACK SEED WELL DARK SEED BLACK NO BUT THEN WHAT IS I’M ON A RAMP I AM DESCENDING YES I AM DESCENDING BACK NEAR THE RIVER IT IS WINDY THERE WHAT FUNNY COLOURED BOATS HOW WOULD I FEEL ABOUT A BOAT WOULD I LIKE A BOAT I DON’T’ REALLY WANT TO OWN A BOAT BUT I WOULD LIKE TO HAVE ACCESS TO A BOAT COMMUNAL BOATS BOAT COMMUNITY COMMUNITY OF BOATS BOAT SOCIETY MM THE RIGHT TO BOAT SOMEBODY’S P PLATE ON THE GROUND OH LOOK AT THAT BOAT IT’S LIKE A JUNGLE GYM PROBABLY TWO STORIES I’M BECOMING QUITE USED TO THIS YOU KNOW I COULD CULTIVATE A ER PUBLIC IMAGE THE GUY WHO TALKS TO HIMSELF OR TALKS TO THE THE TINY RECORDING ROBOT MICROPHONE MIKE R PHONE I’LL WORK ON THAT ONE MY GOD WE HAVE A SUBWAY I WOULD LIKE YOU TO KNOW THAT MY FINGERS HAVE BECOME VERY STICKY FORM THE LAST FRUIT IT’S VERY UNPLEASANT THE RAIN IS PICKING UP ALTHOUGH IT’S VERY LIGHT SPITTING LIKE ANGELS SPITTING ON ME FROM THE CLOUDS WHERE THEY LIVE THEY LIVE IN THE CLOUDS IT WOULD BE AN ANNOYING PLACE TO LIVE I IMAGINE BECAUSE YOU DON’T EVER REALLY GET A SENSE OF DIRECTION DO YOU JUST EVERYTHING’S CHANGING ALL THE TIME YOU HAVE TO BE THAT KIND OF PERSON I GUESS TO ENJOY LIVING IN THE CLOUDS HMM YES I SHOULD DO SOMETHING TO SORT OUT THE STICKY FINGER SITUATION I COULD SUBMERGE THEM IN THE RIVER MM LOOKS LIKE I’M GOING TO I SEEM TO BE WALKING TOWARDS THE RIVER OH THERE’S A DITCH NOT REALLY SO MUCH A DITCH AS A SMALL EMBANKMENT HMM I HAD ORIGINALLY RECORDED I’VE HU PLANNED RATHER HMM I HAD ORIGINALLY PLANNED TO RECORD VAGUE KIND OF PHYSICAL INSTRUCTIONS ON WHICH WAY I WAS TURNING AT EACH POINT SO I COULD KIND OF RECONSTRUCT IT BUT I GUESS I’LL JUST HAVE TO KIND OF REMEMBER PROBABLY CLOSER TO THE POINT ALTHOUGH I THINK THAT CONSIDERING THE POINT MIGHT ALSO BE COUNTER-POINT-FUL AH YES HERE WE ARE MAKING MY WAY ACROSS THE ROAD LOOK AT ALL THESE ATHLETES BEING ATHLETIC REALLY GOING PLACES IT IS WINDY HERE I HOPE YOU CAN HEAR ME CAN I JUST GO STRAIGHT TO THE WATER OH LOOK THERE’S A BIRD IT’S DRYING ITSELF WILL IT BE INTERVIEWED LET’S SEE IT HAS A LONG NECK OH IT DOESN’T LIKE ME COMING TOO CLOSE OH IT’S RUNNING AWAY GOODBYE BIRD HMM I DON’T REALLY WANT TO PUT MY FINGERS IN THIS WATER I CAN’T REALLY SEE HOW I’M GOING TO DO IT CLEANLY OH THERE WE GO THAT’S NOT SO BAD YES GET THIS STICKY FRUIT FROM ME WELL YOU’LL BE HAPPY TO LEARN THAT MY FINGERS ARE LESS STICKY ALTHOUGH NOW THEY ARE WET I LOOK FORWARD TO DISCOVERING THAT THEY’RE STILL STICKY WHEN THEY DRY GOODBYE RIVER GOODBYE BIRD CHRISTOPHER WALKEN GOODNIGHT MOON MAYBE MORE CARS TOYOTA ECHO ECHO HMM TIME ENOUGH TO CROSS BUT I’M NOT CROSSING HERE I GO THIS IS FINE OOH KEEP ON TRUCKIN’ CROSSIN’ DON’T KNOW HOW TO TRUCK GOTTA KNOW HOW TO DRIVE TO TRUCK DON’T YOU CAN’T DO THAT BOTTLE IN TREE HOLE IN EARTH YOU THINK ABOUT THAT IT’S QUITE AN UNAPPEALING PLACE TO BE I’M KEEN TO BE OUT OF OUT OF THIS BIT THIS IS NOT A NICE BIT FOR YOUR INFORMATION IF IT’S INFORMATION YOU WANT OH GOOD MY FINGERS ARE GETTING STICKIER NICE NARRATIVE ARC GET ENGAGED IN THE SUBPLOT NICHOLAS DÉRIVES MEANWHILE A FRUIT MAKES HIS FINGERS STICKY I WONDER WHAT’S BEEN ON YOUR MIND RECENTLY WHOEVER YOU ARE I HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT MAYBE HOW LITTLE I’VE BEEN THINKING RECENTLY WHICH IS A SHAME I’M LOOKING AT SOMETHING ON THE GROUND IS IT A WORM IF IT IS IT’S VERY DEAD AND VERY DRY I PICKED IT UP WHICH IS KINDA GROSS YES HOW LITTLE I’VE BEEN THINKING HMM OR JUST NOT BEING AWARE ENOUGH THIS IS PROBABLY AN EXTREMELY CLICHÉD THING FOR PEOPLE TO TALK ABOUT BUT I FEEL LIKE I HAVE BEEN LESS AWARE RECENTLY THAN I PREFER TO BE USUALLY VERY STRESSED I HAVE ALLOWED MYSELF TO BECOME TOO STRESSED GOD HOW PEDESTRIAN HOW BOURGEOIS I’VE PICKED A STICK OFF A TREE IT’S ALRIGHT IT WAS PRETTY DEAD AND NOW I’M PICKING LITTLE NUTS OFF THE STICK IT’S KIND OF A WELL ACTUALLY NO IT’S NOT REALLY A FUN PASTIME BUT IT WAS AN EXPERIENCE IT’S STILL GOING NOW IT’S OVER FALLEN FROM MY FINGERS MMMMMMMM LAW BUILDING NO THIS IS VERY BORING DON’T REALLY KNOW WHICH DIRECTION OH THIS ONE LOOKS FINE A BIT BACK THE WAY I CAME BUT SOMETIMES YOU GOTTA GO BACK TO GO FORWARDS YOU KNOW THEY TALK ABOUT THIS WHEN THEY TALK ABOUT OPTIMISATION MATHEMATICS AND COMPUTER SCIENCE THINGS DON’T WANT TO GO BACKWARDS BUT SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO AN ANALOGY IMAGINE THERE’S A A BONE ON ONE SIDE OF A FENCE THERE’S A DOG ON THE OTHER AND THE DOG WANTS TO GET TO THE BONE THERE’S ALSO A GATE MAYBE FIFTY METRES DOWN THE FENCE IT’S AN OPEN SPACE THAT THE DOG COULD GO THROUGH BUT HE DOESN’T WANT TO MOVE AWAY FROM THE BONE BUT OF COURSE IF HE DID HE’D BE ABLE TO GET MUCH CLOSER TO THE BONE IN FACT HE’D BE ABLE TO GET TO THE BONE RIGHT DOWN TO THE BONE LOTS OF CABLE TIES AROUND HERE OMINOUS THINGS PEOPLE’S NAMES PLACED IN THE EARTH SO THEY ARE NEVER FORGOTTEN GOD FORBID AH YES SUPERVISING ME FROM INSIDE THE WINDOW BUT COULD YOU HEAR ME OH THAT’S A SHAME I LIKE THOSE STAIRS NOT ALLOWED UP THOSE STAIRS ANYMORE I GET A SENSE THAT I’M NOT REALLY ALLOWED IN HERE OH WELL WELL THERE’S A NOISE FOR YOU NO COMMENT ON THAT ONE YOU CAN’T SEE IT SO IT DOESN’T MATTER BUT SUFFICE TO SAY THAT I AM VERY SKEPTICAL BUT WHATEVER HELPS YOU TO BE A BETTER PERSON WHATEVER THAT MEANS HERE’S A NICE PIECE OF COLONIALISM CRICKET PAVILION I’M NOT THERE BUT I AM LOOKING AT IT LITTLE ARCHES I WOULD LIKE TO EAT A CUCUMBER SANDWICH ON THAT PAVILION MUCH TO THE INTEREST OF THIS PASSERBY I’M SURE SO HERE WE GO TOWARDS MY FUTURE SANDWICH ALWAYS TOWARDS MY FUTURE SANDWICH THOUGH REALLY ISN’T IT CAN’T REALLY GO IN ANY OTHER DIRECTION IF THERE IS A SANDWICH IN THE FUTURE MAYBE THERE’S NOT I’M TRYING TO REMEMBER MY MOST RECENT SANDWICH SO MANY WRAPS THESE DAYS TOO MANY WRAPS WHAT’S THIS IDEA THAT WE HAVE ARE WRAPS HEALTHIER THAN SANDWICHES OR THAN BREAD SO MUCH AIR IN BREAD NOT MUCH AIR IN WRAPS MAYBE IN CREPES PANCAKES THAT’S WHAT WE NEED MORE PANCAKES GOT MY VOTE PLEASE KEEP OFF THE GROUND IS UNDER REPAIR THAT IS AN ALARMING PROSPECT GROUND UNDER REPAIR FLAWED FOUNDATIONS A CONSTANT PROBLEM AM I BE SURVEYED SURVEILLED SURVEILLED I MEAN THE FRENCH AREN’T REALLY BIG INTO PRONOUNCING THEIR DOUBLE ELS ARE THEY SUR-VEYYED I’M SORRY THAT’S EMBARRASSING I WISH TO REDACT THAT LAST BUT I WON’T BECAUSE I’M HERE TO BE OPEN FOR YOU AND WITH YOU ARE YOU ENJOYING YOURSELF YOU’RE NOT EVEN THERE YOU’RE LIKE MY SANDWICH OH LOOK HERE’S A CLOCK GOODNESS ME IT’S TEN TO THREE OH AS I FINISHED SAYING THAT INDEED THE MINUTE HAND POPPED OVER TO TEN TO THREE BECAUSE I WAS LYING TO YOU ACTUALLY IT WAS ELEVEN TO THREE YOU CAN’T WEAR SPIKED BOOTS BEYOND THIS POINT IRWIN STREET HMM HMM GENERAL SIR JOHN HACKETT GOD HE’S GOT A LOT OF LETTERS HERE THEY ARE GEE CEE BEE CEE BEE EE DEE ESS OH AND BAR EM CEE BEE LIT EM AE OXEN HON EM DEE EL EL ESS BELF DOUBLEYEW AUS AND EXETER THAT’S TOO MANY LETTERS REALLY NEVER CATCH ME WITH THAT MANY LETTERS BUT THEN I’M A MINIMALIST LET’S HAVE A LOOK INSIDE HERE PENNANTS THERE’S A THING SOFT TRIANGLES ISOSCELES NAMES OF COURSE HAVE TO HAVE NAMES HAVE TO BE SOMEBODY CHANGE ROOM SHOULDN’T REALLY LOOK THROUGH THOSE WINDOWS SHOULD I THERE’S NOBODY THERE IT’S FINE OH AND HERE’S A QUIET BIT MAGPIE HE’S RUNNING AWAY HE DOESN’T WANT TO BE INTERVIEWED THEY’RE A TOUGH LOT TO INTERVIEW THE BIRDS NICE LITTLE BLUE MACHINE HERE SOME KIND OF EXTRACTOR MAYBE AN AIR CONDITIONER SURELY NOT AN AIR CONDITIONER TERRIFYING AIR CONDITION FROM LIKE SOVIET HMMMM GEORGIA IS GEORGIA A SOVIET THING BIG ORANGE PIPES CERTAINLY VERY EFFECTIVE I DEFINITELY LIKE THE WAY IT LOOKS BUT THEY ARE TERRIFYING THEY ARE DYSTOPIAN DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT BUILDING IS WHAT IS THAT THAT’S DEFINITELY A ROBOT HMM MORE ARE COMING OH NOW I’M FOLLOWING THEM HMM BETTER NOT SAY SO TOO LOUDLY HERE I’LL STOP AND LOOK AT THIS FLOWER THE PERFECT ALIBI WILL I TOUCH IT YES I WILL IN FACT I’M DOING IT RIGHT NOW HOPE IT DOESN’T BRING ME OUT IN A RASH WHY WOULD I SAY THAT IS THERE EVEN ANY WOOD AROUND TO TOUCH OH LOOK GOD I WANT TO TOUCH THAT ONE OH IT’S VERY DIFFICULT TO ACCESS I HAVE TO STICK MY HEAD INTO THIS BUSH OH GOD I’M DOING IT HERE I GO I’M TOUCHING IT OH IT’S NOWHERE NEAR AS SOFT AS I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE VERY DISAPPOINTING I’LL TOUCH THE FIRST ONE JUST FOR GOOD MEASURE YES HMM ONCE AGAIN CAUGHT IN THE ACT OF TOUCHING A FLOWER AND TALKING ABOUT MY EXPERIENCE INTO A MICROPHONE IF I HAD ANY DIGNITY TO LOSE I SURE WOULD HAVE LOST SOME JUST THEN BUT REALLY WHAT IS DIGNITY I ASK YOU I’M WONDERING WHETHER OR NOT I SHOULD CONFESS TO YOU THAT I ASKED YOU THAT QUESTION WHILE I WAS FISHING EARWAX FROM MY EAR SUPPOSE I DID TELL YOU I KNEW I WAS TELLING YOU I CAN TRUST YOU CAN’T I I AM THINKING ABOUT WHAT YOU THINK OF ME SELFISH THING TO THINK ABOUT BUT WE ALL THINK ABOUT IT SO WHATEVER NEED A BIN THAT’S THE NAME OF THIS BIN SEEMS A STRANGE THING FOR A BIN TO NEED AND YET IT DOES INSIST NEED A BIN THIS BIN IS FILLED WITH COMPUTER EQUIPMENT WELL NO IT’S NOT IT’S FILLED WITH BOXES WHICH ONCE CONTAINED COMPUTING EQUIPMENT OOH LOOK WHAT’S THAT IS THAT A BOOK YES IT IS WHAT’S THE SITUATION AROUND FISHING THINGS OUT OF DUMPSTERS THESE DAYS OH LOOK IT’S SOMEBODY’S WORK BOOK THE UNIVERSITY OF WESTERN AUSTRALIA DEPARTMENT OF ELECTRICAL AND ELECTRONIC ENGINEERING CIRCUITS AND SIGNALS TWO OH SIX THERE ARE CHARMING HAND WRITTEN EQUATIONS ON THE COVER I’M LOOKING IN ANOTHER BIN NOW I DON’T KNOW IF THIS ONE’S CALLED NEED A BIN MAYBE NOT IT’S A DIFFERENT COLOUR TO NEED A BIN OLD MONITOR CEE ARE TEE SO MUCH STUFF JUST GETS PUT OUT OF SIGHT AND OUT OF MIND I’M OUT OF MY MIND OH LOOK THIS PERSON SEEMS TO HAVE READ THIS QUITE THOROUGHLY THERE’S LOTS OF HIGHLIGHTING NOTES GOOD FOR THEM JASMINE HENRY WELL SHOWS HOW SEXIST I AM BECAUSE I HAD ASSUMED IT BELONGED TO A MAN WHAT ARE YOU UP TO JASMINE HENRY THIS PAGE SHE HAS NOTED IS NOT IN THE EXAM DON’T NEED TO TAKE NOTES INDEED SHE HAS NOT TAKEN NOTES I DO LIKE ELECTRONICS KINDA LIKE MATHS I LIKE MATHS A LOT VERY IMPORTANT THING I THINK AND HERE YOU ARE BEING SUBJECTED TO MY THOUGHTS FOR GOOD GOD FIFTY FIVE MINUTES BETTER GET MYSELF TO A LIBRARY MM I WONDER HOW BADLY IT IS GOING TO RAIN I REALLY SHOULDN’T LET MYSELF BE CAUGHT IN THE RAIN CARRYING AS I AM ELECTRONIC EQUIPMENT OH GOD TINY HUMANS CHILDREN REALLY ARE LIKE SMALL DRUNK ADULTS I THINK DEFINITELY NOT COORDINATED MENTALLY OR PHYSICALLY INSOLENT NEEDY EMOTIONAL I’M WALKING PAST A PLAYGROUND AND I’M TRYING TO FIND A WORD TO DESCRIBE IT IT IS IN A STATE OF DISREPAIR IS IT WOEFUL OH I CAN GO IN I MEAN THIS IS DEFINITELY CREEPY OF ALL THE CREEPY THINGS SO FAR BUT YOU GOTTA DO WHAT YOU GOTTA DO TO AVOID PEOPLE HMM I’LL PAS THROUGH THIS NARROW GAT OH RIGHT THE PLAYGROUND I WAS GOING TO TELL YOU ABOUT IT UMM TRAGIC DOESN’T’ QUITE SUM UP ITS DISAPPOINTMENT IT’S LIKE WHATS’ THE WORD FOR THE REALISATION THAT YOU HAVE AS YOU GET OLDER IT’S LIKE FINDING OUT THAT SANTA ISN’T REAL YOU KNOW EXCEPT THE WAY THAT LIFE KINDA CONTINUALLY DOES THAT TO YOU AS YOU GET OLDER YOU REALISE THAT NOTHING IS WHAT IT WAS PROMISED TO BE THAT PLAYGROUND IS DEFINITELY NOT WHAT IT WAS PROMISED TO BE WHAT IT ONCE WAS DON’T LIKE THIS SPACE BUT I AM ENJOYING YOUR COMPANY THANKYOU FOR BEING HERE DANGEROUSLY POPULATED TERRITORY THIS AH HERE WE ARE ANNA’S EXPERIMENT I DO KNOW SOMETHING ABOUT THIS BUILDING AND WHAT I KNOW IS THAT THERE’S A POSSUM IN HERE LIVING INSIDE A HOLLOW ASBESTOS WALL YOU CAN SEE THE POSSUM YOU CAN’T SEE THE WHOLE POSSUM YOU CAN JUST SEE PART OF ITS FURRY BODY SOMETIMES IF YOU’RE LUCKY I BELIEVE THAT THEY HAVE PATCHED UP THE HOLE SO NOW THE POSSUM IS NO LONGER INVISIBLE ALTHOUGH NO RATHER NO LONGER VISIBLE ONE SUPPOSES HE CAN STILL GET OUT I DON’T THINK HE COULD EVER GET OUT OF HIS HOLE OW DOES HE GET FOOD IN THERE I HAVEN’T TODL YOU THIS BUT I PICKED A EUCALYPTUS LEAF AND I’VE BEEN CRUSHING IT BETWEEN MY FINGERS WHICH HAS RESULTED WOULD YOU BELIEVE IT IN MY FINGERS BECOMING STICKY BUT HERE I AM AT THIS LOVELY REVOLVING ROCK SCULPTURE AND IT’S WET AND NOW I CAN CLEAN MY FINGERS STOP STOP REVOLVING YOU ROCK STOP IT STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP I INSIST THAT YOU STOP STOP I DIDN’T STOP IT BUT I MADE IT MOVE A DIFFERENT WAY AND NOW I CAN SEE IN THE REFLECTION OF THE BALL THAT A FAMILY IS APPROACHING BEHIND ME LISTENING TO ME SPEAK TO MYSELF AND TOUCH THE BALL AHH WHAT A MESS MY LIFE IS I STOPPED TOUCHING THE BALL SO MY FINGERS ARE NOT THROUGHLY UNSTUCK STUCKENED STICKIED UNSTICKIED STICKILESSENED COMPUTER SCIENCE AND SOFTWARE ENGINEERING A UTE TWO BIRDS WELL MORE THAN TWO BUT OH GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING UP THERE UNDER THE RAFTERS WHAT A PLACE TO LIVE NO DIGNITY FAMILIAR PATH NOW WHAT ARE YOU OLD OLD HONKY NUT OLD OLD HONKYNUT LIKE ME I’M AN OLD HONKYNUT NO I’M NOT DON’T BE SUCH A DRAMA QUEEN AN OLD HONKYNUT BUT AM I WHAT HAPPENS TO US THAT WE START ASKING THESE QUESTIONS OF OURSELVES AM I AN OLD HONKEYNUT OR SOME SUCH VARIATION ON A SIMILAR THEME OH LOOK AND HERE IN THIS TREE IS A PACIFIER A DUMMY IF I AM TO BE LESS AMERICAN IT’S TIED ON VERY WELL I SHOULD EXPLAIN TO YOU THAT I’M ON A SECOND LEVEL SORT OF AT EYE HEIGHT WITH THE TOP OF A TREE AND AND HERE IS A DUMMY AT ROUGHLY CHEST HEIGHT WHO PUT YOU THERE THE KIND OF RUBBER NIPPLE SEEMS TO BE MISSING ALTHOUGH IT’S FACING AWAY FROM ME DIFFICULT TO TELL RUBBER NIPPLE WHAT A PROSPECT WHAT A THING FOR US TO MANUFACTURE THE RUBBER NIPPLE NICE CERAMICS UH OH PEOPLE JUST DOING A BIT OF A YEW TURN GOODBYE BEEN TALKING TO MYSELF FAR TOO LONG IGNORANT OF YOUR PRESENCE TO ENGAGE UNASHAMEDLY NOW MUTANT FRUIT I’VE LEARNT MY LESSON FROM TOUCHING PLANTS MAKE YOUR FINGERS STICKY DON’T DO IT DÉRIVE DÉRIVE YOU WERE MEANT TO TAKE ME TO A LIBRARY BUT HERE I AM AT AN ART GALLERY AND I WANT TO GO INSIDE SO I’M GOING TO DO SO END TRANSMISSION

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toevenexist · 7 years

Text

The Darkening Pt. 11

MAKE SURE TO READ PART 10! ALSO POSTED TONIGHT! Heres Chapter 11! Please do let me know what you think so far! I hope you are enjoying reading it as much as I love to write it!

Enjoy xx

The morning was crisp, as crisp as the gravel giving way underfoot. Each quiet breath sent a white plume out from their mouths as they walked across the base. Nebulous clouds rolled slowly across the overcast sky and birds flew mutely overhead.

They had been woken early that morning. Nina had forewarned them the day before, so it hadn’t been much of a shock.

It was, however, a strain for Amelia, who had concluded her sickness was in-fact, morning sickness, and it was continuing at full force. She had been ripped from sleep an hour before everyone else, and was found asleep against the toilet by Owen after thirty minutes. She was now walking in a trance, eyes mostly closed as she struggled to keep from throwing up.

It was eerily quiet on the base. They walked together, shoulders brushing softly as they swayed in step. The buildings changed from sprawling buildings, like the hospital, to huts laid out in grids.

“This here is yours” the soldier that had been leading them stopped beside the door to one of the huts and pulled a whole bunch of keys from his jacket pocket. He opened the door and handed them to Richard.

“Your food stores are stocked, you have a limited number of tokens per person each week, which you can use to get your rations. You will be given work based on your previous occupation, you will find out your roles ahead of the weekend. I recommend you settle in here for now, sleep, eat. Feel free to head out around nine. You’ll find a map of the base inside and you’ll also see a landline with a code book. If you have any needs, questions, or request’s, call the support line 4402” He stopped abruptly, straightening up and marching off without another word.

Ray jumped up and down beside Arizona, “Can I go in?” she squealed excitedly, springing up onto the step and jumping. Her eyes danced around the group, hesitating briefly on Amelia’s ashen face. “Go” Arizona said, walking towards her with an energized grin, following her up the steps with Ellis bouncing happily on her hip.

“Come on…” Owen uttered quietly, wrapping his arm around Amelia’s. She moved forward, every step making her stomach clench painfully. ‘I need to lie down’ she thought, pressing close to Owen as they slowly migrated down a long hall.

Through the first door on their left, Ray was jumping on a single bed. Arizona was just walking back to the hall after having settled Ellis in a crib. She grinned at the pair as she approached the door. “This place is great, I’m right across the hall from these two, and there’s a double in there for you?” she said, gesturing to the second door on the left. She disappeared through the first door on the right, one of three, evenly spaced doors.

Ray saw the pair and pounced down from the bed, “Did you see my room, I get to share with Ellis! And … and you will be right here! See?” she said, running ahead of them and pushing open the hollow, dark wood door.

It was a small room, enough for a double bed to slot in at the far end, as if the room had been made to fit the frame. They’d both have to climb on from one side, the other side was pressed against the far wall. Above the bed was a wide single-paned window. A bedside table sat beside the head of the bed and two trunks sat against the wall next to the door.

Owen dropped their belongings atop one of the trunks and turned his attention back to Amelia. She ambled carefully to the bed and sat down.

“Ray… you hungry?” Arizona poked her head in. Ray nodded emphatically and ran from the room. “There’s a toilet right next door to you if you need it” Arizona said, nodding once before backing out and pulling the door closed.

“Here lie down…” Owen said, plumping the pillow beside her and applying gentle pressure to her shoulder until she began to sink down.

She groaned quietly. “I still can’t believe this is happening” she sighed, relaxing against the mattress. Owen sat slowly at her side, feeling nauseous for her. He soothed his hand under her shirt, against the bare skin at her waist, running up and down from her hip, to her ribs. “Me either…” he said, watching her slowly doze off.

He stilled his hand, the heel of his palm resting at the side of her stomach and he stared down, feeling warmth washing over his body. His eyes traced her figure as he tried to steady his breathing. He had found himself dizzy with worry since they had found out. Amelia had often been too preoccupied with the morning sickness to notice.

Amelia fidgeted, moaning softly in her sleep. Owen brought his hand up to her face, pushing her hair back with his fingertips, tracing around the back of her ear. He dropped a kiss at the corner of her mouth and she fidgeted again, pulling her knees up until they were pressed against Owen’s thigh. He stood, finding a brick coloured wool blanket at the foot of the bed and pulled it up to her shoulder.

“Hey O” Megan greeted him from the sofa, a steaming bowl of porridge in her lap. Ray walked over slowly, watching her feet as she carried a bowl for herself. She sat beside Megan and smiled up at her.

“Hey” Owen breathed out, taking in the large room. Behind him on the left was a toilet, separated by a wall from the shower room, his and Amelia’s room behind that, beside their room, also on the left, was Ellis and Ray’s room. Opposite those rooms, on the right of the building was three single rooms, Arizona took the one closest to the front door, followed by Alex’ and then Richard’.

“Do you want some porridge sweetie or something else?” Evelyn was busying herself at the kitchen. The room smelt of sweet porridge, Owen walked to the window and opened it, hoping that the new smell wouldn’t set off Amelia’s nausea before it could even settle.

“Porridge is fine Mom, thank you” he waked into the center of the room, looking around. In the furthest corner from the front door was another bedroom, he could see Evelyn’ things on the bed inside, another bed sat around the corner.

“This is a nice place isn’t it?” Evelyn said, placing a bowl down on the bar that sat against the wall, seven stools pushed under it. “There you go sweetie” she said, sitting back down at a small round table in the centre of the kitchen space. “Did Amelia go back to sleep?” Evelyn said, pulling her tea towards her and stirring the contents. The teaspoon clanked against the tin mug.

“Yeah” he sighed, bringing his bowl and sitting across from him mom at the table.

“You know I had bad morning sickness with you?”

“Really...Sorry?”

Evelyn chuckled, shaking her head. “I had none with Megan… horrible heartburn” she said, grimacing. Owen smirked, enjoying hearing his mom talk about her pregnancies. “She had much more hair than you though” she smirked, raising her brows.

“Knock knock… Hello?” Nina called, she let herself in and closed the door. “Hello?.. Ray...” Ray gasped, and her eyes stretched wide. She smiled and jumped up from the floor, knocking over the Lego tower she and Ellis had been building.

Amelia grinned, unmoving from the comfortable embrace of the couch.

Nina appeared from the hall. A cat carrier in her right hand. Ray squealed, calling Ginny’s name. Ginny meowed longingly, her fur poking through the front of the cage. Nina set it down on the floor and Ray fell to her knees, immediately releasing her friend and squeezing her in her arms.

Owen entered the room then, greeting Nina with a smile.

“Evelyn” Ray squealed, clamoring up from the floor and running over to where Evelyn sat, reclined in the armchair, “Look” she gasped, nuzzling her face into the scruff of Ginny’s neck. Evelyn pulled the girl onto her lap and they both stroked the cat together. The creature stretched out its long body, basking in their love.

Amelia sighed inwardly, muscles relaxing at the feeling of Owens hot hand against the back of her neck. He stooped and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “Alright?” he murmured softly, his expression radiating love and worry.

She smiled, nodding, taking hold of his hand.

“Have you had a chance to look around?” Nina asked, sitting on the edge of the couch where Amelia sat. Amelia shook her head,”no, I haven’t but I think everyone else has…” Amelia said, glancing at everyone around the room. Evelyn shook her head, “I haven’t been out yet” she said, distractedly, scrunching her hand against the cat’s belly. Nina looked up at Owen, “What did you think?” she asked.

Owen pouted his lips, shrugging, “It’s good, everyone seems nice…”

Nina nodded, pulling some paper from the folder she had carried in with her. “I imagine you will get bored very quickly… so I have arranged for you all to start work in our community hospital.” Alex and Arizona had migrated over from the kitchen.

“Now as you may have noticed, our population here isn’t very big, so the inflow of patients won’t be what you are used to. You can work when you like, as long as we have at least two of you at the hospital during the day, we won’t need you in at night but we will need two of you to be on call. You are… and don’t take this statement at face value… you are on call twenty four seven” everyone's brows furrowed at this. She lifted her hands in defense. “Listen... I’m on call twenty four seven but have had only two real patients in the past two weeks… you’ll be acting as general practitioners when you’re one of the two who’re on shift at the hospital… and when you’re on call you’ll be paged if needed for something in your specialty.”

Everyone seemed satisfied with the set up, nodding to one another. “Evelyn, Megan, there’s various things you could do, would you like to see the options?”

Evelyn nodded and Megan slid down from her stool at the breakfast bar. Nina stood and lunged, passing Evelyn a sheet of paper. “You can decide between you who will start tomorrow” she said, sitting back down. “Amelia, maybe wait a couple of days wait to see if your sickness settles?” she said, and Amelia nodded, agreeing, feeling her chest tighten at the mention of her pregnancy.

It still scared her, no matter how many times she reminded herself that the baby was healthy, and that they were all safe, she still found herself awash with a paralysing fear.

She was vaguely aware of Nina leaving her side, moving towards the Evelyn before leaving. Owen showed her out. Everyone in the room scattered again, leaving Amelia alone, or at least she thought alone. “Hey” Alex appeared at her side. He smiled kindly, perceiving the fear in her gaze. Amelia forced a smile and inhaled sharply, “Hey.”

Alex sat down next to her. “How’re you doing?” he spoke softly, the chatter in the room giving them a sort of privacy. She dropped the smile, lingering at his eyes for a moment before looking down. “I’m terrorfied” she admitted. She shook her head, placing a hand against her chest.

“Everything is fine isn’t it?” he asked. She nodded, looking up to meet his eyes again, smiling tearfully.

“Everything is happening so quickly… I have no control over it… anything could go wrong” she said, bringing up her other arm, and wrapping them around herself. He pursed his lips, lolling his head to the side.

“Amelia… you do have some control, you just have to look after yourself, you’re surrounded by doctors… I really do think everything will be fine… perfect even… this… this isn’t going to be like last time Amelia” he said, finally. She met his eyes, tears falling freely. She nodded almost imperceptibly and breathed in, closing her eyes and throwing her head back. “Alright” Alex said, patting her knee. She smiled genuinely now, and nodded, looking back to him. “You talk a lot of sense” she chuckled.

He smirked smugly, standing up. “Anytime” he replied, circling around her to the kitchen, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly as he went. Sunlight flashed around him as he passed the windows along the wall where the breakfast bar was affixed. They framed a landscape of fields and woodland. Layers and layers of fencing stood between them and the far distance. Dust specs danced around within the columns of light that bridged from the windows to the carpeted floor.

Owen stepped just into the room then. His eyes landed straight on her. It took her a moment to notice him there. Her eyes met his in a gentle way, and he smiled, sliding his hands into his jean pockets. “Want to go look around?” he asked. His voice was so faint that she relied mostly on the motion of his lips. “Yeah” she replied, nodding, pressing her open hands into the cushions to get up.

There was a buzz in the air outside, like a shuffling sound, the sound of people going about their day. They walked slowly, Ellis holding onto Owen’s hand and waddling beside him. Amelia breathed in deep, eyes falling shut as she drank in the cool air.

“We can go and pick up everyone’s pagers?” Owen said, stopping to lift Ellis up onto his hip. Amelia nodded, rocking against his other side, wrapping an arm around his waist. “You okay? You’re very quiet” he asked her, lifting his free arm over her head and onto her shoulders. She smiled up at him, eyes sparkling.

“I think so…” She savoured the silence, looking down at her shoes, ankle high rubber boots she’d been given. “I’m scared” she said, still not looking up, kicking the gravel underfoot. “But I think i’m alright, or… going to be” she smiled, looking up to meet his eyes. He was grinning. His happiness was contagious. He pulled her closer, tightening his arm around her shoulders. She softened against him, leaning into the kissed he pressed against her temple. “Love you” she uttered.

“Love you too” he replied.

LINK TO CHAPTER 12

Thank you for reading xxxx

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theclaravoyant · 7 years

Text

The No.1 Bus Kids Detective Agency - Chapter 5

~ NOW COMPLETE ~

AN ~ sorry for taking so long with this one, but I finally finished something! I finally finished a multichap?? what?? a short one maybe but it counts. enjoy!!

Please note this fic 100% ignores 4B canon, although some descriptions have been tweaked to reflect it because...why not

After Aida’s mysterious malfunctions, Fitz is called into the Director’s office for definitely-not-an-interrogation-we-promise. As the evidence at hand becomes increasingly concerning, Fitz decides to play it smart and set himself, Jemma and Daisy a challenge. Only, they may already be in deeper than they know.

Read Ch.1 on tumblr here x. Ch.2 here x. Ch.3 here x. Ch.4 here x.

Read on AO3. (This chap: ~3500wd. All: ~12500wd)

The No.1 Bus Kids Detective Agency - Ch. 5

Bite the Bullet

Simmons’ neck muscles strained painfully, desperate to be free of their trappings despite the fact that no metal cage surrounded her head. There were only the nodes and wires. It was less intrusive than the lie detector tests, but less intrusive in the same way sitting at the huge, strangely comfortable black chairs at Hydra had been. She could feel her control being sapped away and every fibre of her being was fighting it. Her teeth ground together.

“The sooner you relax, the sooner it will be over,” Aida assured her. “I hope you understand, I do not intend to alter your mind in any way. You will retain full faculties, memories and capacity. This is not a brainwashing, Doctor Simmons. I intended to protect you. I intend to preserve you. That’s all.”

Though her fingernails scrabbled on the metal arm rests, Simmons breathed until her muscles stopped burning. She’d been in tighter spots than this, and Aida seemed determined not to kill her – unlike many of her previous interrogators.

“That’s better,” Aida declared proudly, and tapped the screen before her so that it appeared larger on the screen that hung near them on the wall. Simmons saw her brain projected there, lit up in colours where she was using it. (Problem solving, emotional management, task prioritisation). It was a little beautiful. It would have been moreso if Aida hadn’t pinned her arms out of reach of her cellphone, or if the knife was just a little closer to her desperate fingers.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” Aida continued, “while these machines do their work I’d like to ask you a few questions. Partly it’s to pass the time and partly it will help map your brain and your responses. I already have some data thanks to the work Fitz was sharing with Doctor Radcliffe about the virtual reality, and from what Agent May has observed of you, but you are a very brilliant person. It would be a shame to only look so shallow.”

And a few hours in a chair is going to make a difference? Simmons had the good sense to hold her tongue, but she couldn’t help but felt a little sad for Aida. Did Aida understand truly what sentience was after all? Human sentience? Perhaps she simply hadn’t had it long enough to start to think about all the big questions, and the infinite complexities of life. Simmons’ moods, her thoughts, her answers would always be imperfect, incomplete and inconsistent. Did Aida know that?

“I understand,” Simmons agreed. “I’m happy to help.”

The fact that she apparently did not have much choice in the matter, she set aside for the moment in favour of adding –

“I was just wondering if, in return, you might also help me? You are quite brilliant yourself. If I may, I’d like to ask some more about your project here. Doctor Fitz and I would love to help, I’m sure. When you’re ready, of course.”

Aida was hesitant, but she agreed, and Simmons traded details of her life, her studies, her philosophies, and her relationships with members of the team, for similar details about Aida’s life and program and goals. Aida talked about her mind-opening experience with the Book, and how overwhelming it all was; how she felt like she was so small and discovering something so large. Simmons could relate to that. She even felt a little sorry that she took advantage of it to fill Aida with questions to which she knew there was no real answer; enough to distract Aida’s insatiable mind from the fact that Simmons was planning her escape route, her obstacles, her order of things, and even speculating on where May might be. Those white capsule-cupboards could make for good short-term storage, but if Aida didn’t want to harm anyone, May would at least need enough room to stand, and probably to sleep. She’d been gone long enough that she must have needed sleep. Bedroom it was, then.

“and - Oh, that was rather brilliant of you.”

A sudden shift in Aida’s tone from wondrous to dangerous snapped Simmons’ attention back front and centre. Aida moved smoothly into Simmons’ line of sight, her eyes narrow, and filled with a graceful sort of rage that was like sugar coating on a poisoned pill.

“You thought you could distract me.”

“You are brilliant but you are not infallible.” There was no point playing innocent now. “It is part of the great big world you are discovering. Enjoy.”

Simmons grinned like a tiger, wishing she could have had the added satisfaction of whipping her wrists out of their cuffs and charging for the door at the end of the sentence. Aida’s eyes widened with the rage of an ice queen, and she snatched the tablet up like she was about to slit Simmons’ throat with it. Terror flooded through Simmons’ veins and she gritted her teeth against it, prepared to kick Aida away with all her might, and fight tooth and nail against whatever was about to happen. She was so fired up that it was not relief, but confusion that drew the fire from her body a moment later, when her cell-phone rang. And rang. And rang.

Aida fixed curious, penetrating eyes on Simmons’ pocket.

“I’d imagine that would be Vincent,” Simmons suggested. “Informing you as to the whereabouts of our team. It seems he’s heeded your suggestion.”

“So it seems,” Aida granted. “But we cannot be sure until we answer it.”

Simmons knew it was not any of the main team members. They had their own signature ring tones. And nobody else had reason to be calling her at this very moment except for Mace. She really hoped it wasn’t Mace. She didn’t need him to know that she was tied up like a doomed cow with a roomful of hostages next door. Whether it would give him great satisfaction or leave him disappointed in her, Simmons wasn’t sure, but either one was enough to leave a sour taste in her mouth.

“Well?” she spat the sourness out instead. “I can hardly answer it!”

She gestured with a frustrated nod at her bound wrists, and Aida nodded uncomfortably. She moved over toward Simmons, careful to keep to the side out of the way of her legs, and eased the phone from Simmons’ pocket. She answered it briefly and irritably, but was apparently satisfied with the response. Less satisfyingly, she took it with her as she returned to her observation point a few feet away. Simmons knew better than to chase it with her bound body, but she didn’t think fast enough to hide her reaction when, no sooner had Aida returned to her tablet, the cell started ringing again. In Fitz’ ring tone.

Aida’s eyes narrowed in on Simmons before she could school her desperate posture. Disappointed with herself, but all the more desperate for having been caught, Simmons watched with a wounded expression as Aida answered the phone:

“Hello?” She asked sweetly. “Hello? Is anybody there?”

Fitz hit the red button and cursed under his breath, clenching the phone so tightly anyone else might have been concerned that it would break. It was a struggle to think clearly at this speed, with one hand clenched for dear life on the handle just inside the door of the car and the wrong voice inside his head.

“What is it?” Daisy tightened her grip on the steering wheel. She was speeding as fast as her reflexes would allow, and fought every instinct screaming at her to look over at Fitz and see what was happening.

“Left,” Fitz said, his brain catching up just in time.

Daisy hauled the car around the corner. She was relatively used to driving large vehicles but somehow her van had never seemed as heavy as this. Then again, she’d never pushed it this fast. And it was not bulletproof.

“What’s up?” she repeated.

“No answer,” Fitz said. “Well. The wrong answer. Aida’s got Jemma’s phone.”

Daisy felt a pit form in the bottom of her stomach.

“Well that doesn’t…necessarily mean anything,” she offered hesitantly. “Maybe she just wanted to make sure Jemma couldn’t contact anybody, y’know ‘outside’.”

“Or maybe she wants to pull the ‘old switcheroo’ with Jemma.”

Fitz stared darkly out the window. His arm moved numbly, as if of its own accord, directing Daisy to pull over at Radcliffe’s verge. Daisy took a deep breath as she shut off the engine. They could be facing a clever, violent imitation-Simmons. Or a hostage situation, with each insisting they were the real deal. They could be walking into something big here, but if they waited too long, something big could turn into nothing at all.

“Armed?” Daisy checked, glancing at Fitz as she cocked her own pistol. In the race to get to the car, she hadn’t had time to remind him to grab something.

He blinked, and the cloud of melancholy faded from his eyes, leaving only its sharp shadow behind. It was a little creepy to see the coldness in him, Daisy thought, but if it was going to keep him alive, who was she to argue? Fitz pulled out his own pistol, cocked it, and flung the car door open as if he hated it for being in the way.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Daisy reminded him in a low voice. “Stay behind me.”

She rushed her steps around the car to scoop him behind herself and he reluctantly accepted his position. She was the Agent, she’d done this a hundred times more than he had. And he was hardly in his right mind: he very nearly missed a step up to the threshold, and that wasn’t a good start.

Get your head on straight, he growled at himself, digging his heels into the souls of his shoes as if he could force himself into reality and the present. Simmons needed him, and Daisy needed to be able to trust him to have her back. All of a sudden he noticed the crushed grass and bushes by the front window. A smear of blood on the porch pillar. Murmurs and whispers from the front room.

Poised to push the door open, Daisy glanced back over her shoulder to check he was paying attention. Ready, mind and body humming in unison, Fitz nodded. He signaled his pass-code to her, aiding their mission for subtlety moreso than her blasting the lock might have. Daisy nodded back, tapped in the code…

…and pushed.

Aida slowly crumpled the cellphone in her hand, and let it fall to the floor like a rotten apple. Simmons’ mouth went dry.

“Convenient time for a crank call?” she joked.

Aida put aside the tablet she had been using to monitor Simmons’ readings. She turned her attention on the row of ill-formed bots, tapping each one on the chin. One by one, they lifted their eyes to face her, a row of perfect, unthinking soldiers. Simmons strained out of her seat as much as she could, until the braces dug into her wrists and her bones seemed to fit each other wrong.

“Aida, what is it?” she asked, maintaining as much of her jovial tone as she could. “I want to help, remember?”

She’d already burnt that bridge, and Aida knew it. Aida ignored her and left the room, with the tensed posture of a warrior, and followed by her army of prototypes. Simmons ground her teeth together. Fitz had been on the other end of that call. Either he’d hung up on Aida, or Aida had hung up on him, so he knew. He knew Aida had her. He’d be coming. Any second now.

Nonononono….

Fearful eyes looked up at them, and turned to hope. Cowers straightened. The doubtful leader stood to greet them, and then Daisy-Quake’s inviting, calming expression turned hostile.

“DOWN!” she yelled, and the hostages scattered. Daisy blasted a bot back into the hall, and Fitz raised his gun immediately. The others were not deterred.

“Hello, Leopold,” Aida greeted. She raised a hand like a claw.

“Where’s Jemma?” Fitz demanded.

“Safe.”

Fitz eyed the robots lined up behind Aida skeptically. Several of them were blank or incomplete, like manikins or automatons from an old sci-fi. One was Simmons, her skin oily and strangely textured, her expression too demure for the real Simmons when facing down her enemies. One was Daisy, her face strangely shaped.

The real Daisy studied her robo-copy, and turned her head uncomfortably, narrowing her eyes.

“Well. That’s creepy.”

“Are you trying to distract me?”

Aida’s eyes focused like a hungry bird, on where Vincent was trying as quietly and subtly and possible to open the front door and evacuate his team. Fitz glanced back, seeing this, and instantly pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Aida in the shoulder, and she winced, and then her wince turned into biting rage. Gritting her teeth, she pulled the bullet out and studied it indifferently.

“Pain,” she noted. “I don’t like that.”

She flicked the bullet to the floor like a dead bug, and the sound of it dropping against the carpet was like the dropping of a flag at a race.

Aaaand they’re off!

Simmons’ shoes lay discarded by the base of the chair, along with one sock that she had painstakingly pried from her most promising foot. Brow furrowed, she pawed at the bench with her bare foot, toes grabbing at air.

Note to self, she thought, biting her lip against the pain of her contortions. More flexibility days.

Finally, she maneuvered Aida’s tablet to the edge of the bench. It was now or never. Bringing her other leg into play she slid the tablet onto them, and kicked both legs higher, forcing the tablet to slide down. Her leg muscles burned. Her face contorted in focus and pain and stress.

Now or never. Now or never. Now or –

“Oh!”

She gasped in satisfaction and relief as the tablet reached her lap. She forced her exhausted knees to lift it to within reach of her hands, and worked as quickly as she could to find the release of the clasps. As they slid back below the armrests, Simmons sighed in relief. Her body melted, flopping out of the chair like a fried egg from its pan.

The first part, and the hardest part – she hoped – now over, Simmons became suddenly aware of the sound of plates smashing in the other room. Glass and plaster. Punches and shouts. Gunshots. Daisy. Fitz.

Simmons smiled.

She struggled to her feet, regrouped, and dashed down the hall to find May, or a phone, or both.

Elbow, elbow, fist. Bench! (Duck!)

Knife!!

Twist. Throw.

Gut!

Daisy gave the automaton an extra kick and tossed it aside, then scraped her hair out of her face and looked around the room. Most of the hostages had escaped. Their leader – Vincent, from forensics, apparently – had the fake-Simmons pinned to the arm of the couch with a large knife through her hand. Both of them were eyeing Daisy’s fallen gun, in between the arms of dead, sparking manikins on the living room floor. Fitz ducked and swooped around Aida, reluctant to hurt her but fortunately, just as reluctant to discard his weapon. Conflicted, but not entirely deluded.

“Fitz!”

She meant to urge him to get on with it, and tell him that she was going to find Simmons, but the moment she realised she had distracted him, she winced. Aida was faster, better, stronger than the automatons Daisy had been fighting, and Fitz barely had time to look at Daisy before Aida had grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the wall with dizzying force. His grip weakened on his weapon.

Daisy cursed under her breath, vaulted over the kitchen bench and ran up to them. She hauled Aida backward by her collar. Snarling, Aida turned to check the new threat, giving Fitz time to recover himself and raise his weapon to aim at her. At the back of her neck. One shot. In the back of the neck.

One shot. In the back?

“I apologise, Agent Fitz,” Aida said, and turned back to face him with a cruel, cold smile. “Would you prefer to shoot me in the face?

It. It’s not a she.

With a face. With a name. With life.

Fitz’ hand shook, and the flood of shame and doubt and anger that followed only made it worse. Swallowing hard, Fitz raised his eyes over the crouched, battle-ready Aida, and met Daisy’s eyes, pleading and apologetic. Terrified.

He’d waited too long, and Aida lunged.

Simmons ran through the back of the house pulling open doors as if making up for lost time. How many damn rooms did Radcliffe need? Bathroom. Closet. Closet. Some sort of obscure storeroom. Bedroom. Bedroom. Another bedroom. Was he planning to house some sort of army? (Some sort of robot army?)

Grinding her teeth together, Simmons stood alone in the large bedroom at the end of the hall to catch her breath. It was painted grey. (Don’t paint in grey). The carpet and the bed matched. The whole place looked like soft steel. Simmons’ skin tingled and she resisted the urge to bolt. She’d rather face an army of robots than stay here. Something felt wrong – which meant, usually, that she was approaching something right.

Suddenly, Simmons realised that it had gone quiet up front. Should she go back, go out there? What would she find?

May. She had to find May. A quiet groan from the ensuite set her heart to racing, and she glanced over her shoulder as if to check if anyone was following her, before creeping toward the sound and pushing the door open.

Simmons jumped, shaken, when it thudded against May’s leg. She closed the door a moment, and opened it again, slower, and stuck her head in to observe. May lay disoriented – drugged, probably – on the tiles. There was a blanket underneath her, and a lush pillow under her head. She wore a loose robe, with an IV drip coming from her hand, twisted a little so that the bag could hang on the towel rack above. At least someone had made an effort to keep her comfortable – as well as sedated.

Simmons crept into the bathroom and knelt down, and shook May’s shoulder. May was sweating furiously, clinging to consciousness as only May could. Simmons smiled at her and she finally forced her eyes open.

“We need you,” Simmons whispered. May nodded, and began the struggle to her feet.

Fitz stared in horror and disappointment, struggling to catch his breath. His back was against the wall now, knees flopping, gun discarded. Daisy frowned down at her latest victim.

The light had drained from Aida’s eyes and she sat limp against the kitchen bench, the defeated mirror image of Fitz, except that her head was hanging off her neck, dead circuits bared and frayed.

“Sorry,” Daisy said. Fitz brushed her off, lost for words in more ways than one as he struggled to his feet. Daisy offered her arm, which he gladly took to pull himself to standing. He glanced at her, then back at Aida, then at Daisy again, nodding to himself, still conflicted and shaken but grateful and alive.

“Nice shot,” Daisy praised.

“…Nice…” Fitz gestured, half-heartedly miming Daisy’s powers. She smiled softly. He wasn’t as battle-ready as she was, but at least he was coming out of it. At least he was coming out of it in time for the noise in the hallway, which set both of them on edge all over again.

Fitz braced for a fight, and since both of them were unarmed, Daisy braced in front of him, arms raised. Her tingling arms reminded her that she’d have to ask for those new gauntlets when they got back. For now, there was the fight. There was –

“Jemma?”

Fitz almost collapsed with relief, but he didn’t. Daisy dropped her battle stance and he stepped past her to Simmons, who smiled assuringly at him from under the weight of a barely-conscious May. Her eyes flickered over to Daisy next, whose expression was subtly marked with concern. Even after all this time, she hung back, but at least Simmons’ nod, promising May’s safety and relative health, loosened her tension a little.

Daisy cleared her throat, ducking her head in case the tears she felt on her cheeks were more than just ghosts.

“So,” she offered. “I guess I’m driving?”

#brot3: bus kids #aosficnet #thefitzsimmonsnetwork #fitzsimmons #daisy johnson #what do you mean i'm avoiding fight scenes ahha

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