Authors: Helen Douglas
‘Where do you want to start?’ asked Antoine.
‘The sphere?’ said Peg.
‘Sure. Then up to Wall Street.’
They pulled on their flippers and masks, strapped on their tanks and tumbled backwards off the boat into the sea.
The skipper sailed us a short distance away into the shade of a nearby building.
‘I’ll fix us some drinks,’ said Belle, heading into the cabin.
That left just Lyra and me on the deck. I made sure I was in the shade and began slathering Factor 50 all over my exposed skin.
‘What’s the deal with you and Peg?’ Lyra asked me suddenly.
I glanced over at her. She was sitting on a deckchair under the shade of a parasol, black sunglasses shielding her eyes from me.
‘What do you mean?’ I said.
‘Just don’t go thinking that Peg can be your backup boyfriend if things don’t work out for Ry.’
‘I don’t need a back-up boyfriend,’ I said.
‘Good. Because he deserves better than that.’
This seemed a bit off coming from the girl who’d told Peg earlier he was worth having around in case she felt like slumming it. ‘We’re just friends.’
‘You stayed over at his place on Friday night.’ She seemed to be staring at me, but I couldn’t tell for sure because of her glasses.
‘It was easier than going home and facing the reporters.’
‘He lives in a shitty neighbourhood. You’d have been safer at the hotel.’
‘I preferred to stay with Peg,’ I said.
‘These are the best,’ said Belle, coming on to the deck. She passed me an amber-coloured drink in a tall glass with fruit floating in it and a piece of cucumber straddling the rim. ‘It’s just a light drink. You don’t want
too
much alcohol in this weather or you’ll dehydrate.’
‘Thanks,’ I said.
I sipped at my drink. It was too sweet. I put it down on the deck, disappointed.
‘So?’ said Belle. ‘Do you have a date for the trial yet?’
‘Tuesday,’ I said. ‘I saw Ryan yesterday. And his lawyer.’
‘How is he?’
‘He’s OK. His lawyer seems to think he’s almost certain to get a not-guilty verdict.’
‘You must be so excited, Eden,’ said Belle. ‘In forty-eight hours, this could all be over.’
‘I’m terrified, actually,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to screw up in court.’
‘There’s nothing to screw up,’ said Lyra. ‘That’s for the lawyers to worry about. All you get to do is answer their questions truthfully.’
‘I just want to do everything I can to help him.’
Lyra sucked on the straw in her drink. ‘The bookies are offering odds of three to one against Ry being acquitted.’
‘Lyra,’ said Belle.
‘What? She needs to know the truth. Chances are Ry will be found guilty and locked up.’
‘I don’t believe that,’ I said.
I was finishing my third drink when the boys arrived back. The captain lifted the anchor and began sailing into the city. Just as my stomach began a series of loud rumbles, we sailed into the canal system of midtown. The skyscrapers that towered either side of the canals cast deep shade on to the boat, so we sat out on the deck.
We moored up outside a building with a crown of terraced arches that glinted silver in the sunshine above us.
‘This is the Chrysler Building,’ said Belle. ‘There’s a great restaurant just above canal level. Everything is fresh and locally produced. And the view over the canals is amazing.’
The restaurant was called the Better Health Bar and it was buzzing. Before going to the table Antoine had reserved, we each stood in a full body scanner that measured our height, weight and vital statistics, before pricking our thumbs for a drop of blood.
‘How exactly does this work?’ I asked.
‘You’ll be served a meal that meets your nutritional needs,’ said Belle. ‘You eat to live right? This helps you live healthier. And it always tastes good.’
I stood in the scanner. It measured me in about three seconds.
‘Any dietary restrictions?’ asked the waiter, holding out a small square box, about the size of a coaster. He placed my thumb on the box. I felt a slight scratch and I was done.
‘Vegetarian,’ I said.
Once we were seated, Lyra took out her port-com and continued her documentary. ‘Better Health Bars are the ultimate in laziness,’ she said, filming a three hundred and sixty degree circle of the room. ‘No longer do people need to think about what they eat and make a decision to be healthy. They let machines make their decisions for them. And this doesn’t come cheap. A single meal at the Better Health Bar comes in at just over one hundred credits. That’s a week’s rent in most districts. However, for Lakeborough’s teens, that’s just pocket change.’
Antoine put up a hand in front of his face. ‘I’m not agreeing to this, Lyra. I think you need to find yourself a new subject.’
Lyra put down her port-com and rolled her eyes. ‘What else am I supposed to do? The slummy side of the city with Peg?’
Peg smirked. ‘Please stop flirting with me, Lyra. It’s getting embarrassing.’
When my meal showed up it was a large lentil and steamed kale salad, with freshly squeezed orange juice to drink.
‘Typical dinner for the anaemic,’ said Belle. ‘That’s why you’re so pale.’
‘I’m always pale. It’s my colouring.’
She shrugged. ‘And anaemic.’
‘If I do stay in the twenty-second century, I think I’ll open a pizza parlour,’ I said.
‘What do you mean
if
you stay in the twenty-second century?’ said Peg. ‘You don’t exactly have a choice.’
‘Sometimes this whole thing feels like a dream,’ I said. ‘I expect to wake up in my old bed in my old village, with the seagulls screeching overhead and the smell of the sea in the air.’
Peg stopped eating and stared at me. ‘Do you wish you hadn’t come?’
‘Of course not,’ I said, pushing my food around my plate. ‘I want to be wherever Ryan is. But I wish we could’ve stayed in 2012. I don’t know what I’ll do if . . .’ I couldn’t finish the thought.
‘So tell us what a pizza parlour is,’ said Antoine.
I poked around at the salad on my plate while telling them all about different pizza bases and toppings.
‘Wheat used to be cheap back in your day,’ said Belle. ‘It’s much more expensive these days. We’re lucky because Canada has perfect conditions for growing wheat, but for most of the world it’s a luxury. If you opened a pizza restaurant now, it would be an upmarket sort of place.’
Just then, a large group came into the restaurant and the noise level quadrupled. They were all boys, dressed like Antoine and Peg in long shorts and shirts, but with massive conical hats that reminded me of the sort Chinese field workers used to wear. There were about ten of them. As soon as they were scanned in, they made their way to the table next to ours, laughing and joking and slapping one another across the shoulders.
‘That’s the group I really want to write about,’ said Lyra.
‘You know them?’ I asked.
‘Lakeborough crowd. Not just wealthy, but entitled and obnoxious.’
‘That’s your friend, isn’t it?’ I said, recognising the blonde boy from the Watering Hole.
Before she had a chance to respond, Clarence Wolfe came over to our table. He winked at me. ‘We have to stop meeting like this. People will start to talk.’
‘Hey, Clarence,’ said Peg. He didn’t smile. ‘You guys down here for the weekend?’
He pulled off his straw hat and ran his hands through his blonde hair. ‘Just for the day. We went diving in the marine park.’ He turned back to me. ‘So Eden, how would you like to come to the Guardians’ Ball next weekend?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know anything about it.’
‘These guys will fill you in, but it is the highlight of the social calendar. The grand Late Summer Ball at the Institute. Music, food, drink, entertainment. And it’s invitation only.’
‘I’m not really in the mood for partying,’ I said.
‘Why ever not?’ said Clarence. ‘You’re young, beautiful, it’s summertime.’
‘And my boyfriend is locked up.’
‘Aww, come on,’ said Clarence. ‘He’d want you to go. His family will be there. His dad’s a Guardian.
‘I’ll think about it.’
Clarence shrugged. ‘That means
no
, right? Let me ping you my number in case you change your mind.’
‘I don’t have a port-com.’
‘I’ve got your number, Clarence,’ said Belle. ‘If Eden wants to be your date for the ball, I’ll call you.’
Clarence kissed Belle’s cheek, slapped Antoine and Peg across the shoulder and then made a big show of dancing his way back to his own table.
‘God, I hate that guy,’ said Lyra.
After dinner, we sailed the canals and bar-hopped from the Empire State Building back to the Rockefeller Centre and on to the Plaza Hotel. By the time we were back in the car at South Shore Seaport it was four in the morning. We popped into a twenty-four-hour diner and picked up some coffee and potato cakes for the journey home. Antoine drove the car manually on to the expressway before setting the automatic pilot and swivelling his seat to face the interior.
Peg and I were sitting next to each other, but Lyra was across from us, one hand cradling her cup of coffee, the other holding a cigar. Despite the fact it was dark, she was still wearing her sunglasses and I couldn’t tell if she was staring at me, Peg or even sleeping.
I yawned. The others were talking about work schedules and internships and a trip to the mountains next weekend. They spoke about people I didn’t know and places I’d never heard of, and although they kept trying to fill me in so I could keep up, it was obvious that I had no place in this conversation. Eventually, my eyes fluttered shut and the voices began to retreat. I surrendered to the gentle movement of the car and the deep, magnetic pull of sleep.
I woke to a crick in my neck and a bony shoulder under my cheek. Coming to, I realised my head had fallen on to Peg’s shoulder. I straightened myself and checked my mouth to make sure I hadn’t done anything embarrassing like dribble on him. The others were all still awake, but quieter than they had been earlier.
‘We’re nearly home,’ said Peg.
‘Sorry. I didn’t realise I was leaning on you.’
‘It’s fine. You were tired.’
The windows of the car were clear and I could see the lights of downtown Lakeborough ahead of us. As we exited the expressway, Antoine swivelled his seat to face the windscreen and took over manual control of the car.
‘You’re first, Eden,’ he said.
‘Thanks for bringing me and everything,’ I said.
‘No problem. Peg, you’ll be right after Eden.’
‘What’s your schedule, Pegasus?’ Lyra asked.
‘Sleeping all day today. Working all morning tomorrow.’
‘Sleeping alone?’ she asked.
‘Unless you’re offering.’
‘In your dreams, little boy.’
Peg smiled and drained his coffee. ‘Will I see you on Tuesday after work?’
‘If you can fit me into your busy schedule.’
‘Aww, come on, Lyra. Don’t give me a hard time. You know I have to go to work and fit in my flying time.’
‘Not to mention taking good care of Orion’s girlfriend.’
‘There’s always time for you, Lyra.’
She stubbed her cigar out in her coffee cup. ‘Are you sure? Maybe you should check your diary in case you have plans to show Orion’s girlfriend your medal collection.’
‘I think you’re having a go at me again. But I’m much too tired to give a damn. Are you coming by on Tuesday or not?’
‘I’ll be there.’
Antoine pulled up by the kerb right outside the Lakeview. Just a half dozen reporters were stationed there.
‘Still a few diehards, I’m afraid,’ said Antoine.
‘Good luck tomorrow, Eden,’ said Belle. ‘You’ll be great. Just imagine the Guardians with their clothes off.’
I fought to suppress a nervous laugh. ‘Why would I want to do that?’
‘It’s supposed to help with nerves. You know, underneath their pompous uniforms they’re just human beings like you and me. Humans who burp and fart and –’
‘Come on, Belle,’ said Antoine, lightly swatting his sister across the head. ‘Before we all bring up our dinner.’
I opened the door and stepped on to the pavement.
‘Eden,’ said Peg, ‘when is the verdict going to be announced?’
‘Wednesday.’
‘We’ll all come to your hotel right after the verdict. Hopefully you’ll have Orion with you. And if not . . .’
‘If not,’ I said.
Neither of us could bear to finish the other half of that sentence.
The Space and Time Institute stood at the crest of the hill, as though keeping watch over the city that lay below it. As clouds passed in front of the sun and then cleared, light glinted from its tall windows, like the warning beam from a lighthouse.