Rollerskater: Strings
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This instalment contains descriptions of dead animals.
It was overcast on the beach.
Well, that was the best way of describing it. The sky was light grey, yet there was no discernible point in the sky from which light seemed to be shining. The best approximation for it was “overcast”.
The air, too, was curiously still, and the air is never still on beaches.
Those two observations, combined with the fact she could not remember how she got here, were what allowed Daisy to conclude that she was not in the “real” world; though to say this place was simply illusion, or did not somehow possess its own reality, would be to deny what was right in front of her.
There were cliffs of strange, purplish-grey stone, and on the black, volcanic-looking sand were three white deckchairs, arranged around a white plastic table, upon which there was a cathode-ray tube television.
She did not so much walk as draw the table and chairs towards her, and seated herself in one of the chairs.
A moment later, or perhaps before (as in a dream, her idea of time made little sense), she found herself looking into a face that she recognised as her own, but it was not her own, for it belonged to Ella Foe.
“Hello, Daisy,” Ella said. She was dressed in a white linen jumpsuit. “Nice to see you again.”
“What are you doing here?” Daisy asked. “We became one, didn’t we?”
“We disintegrated,” Ella replied. “You’ve experienced something stressful.”
“Yes,” Daisy said, remembering flashes. “Yes! God, how did I forget?”
She paused. “…how long have I been here?”
“That is a question that has little meaning here,” Ella said. “But I can tell you that we were captured by the British government on Halloween.”
“And what’s today?”
“The third of November.”
“Christ…” Daisy said. “I don’t remember getting here at all. It feels like I woke up five minutes ago.”
“As I say, your understanding of time has little meaning here,” Ella said. “You’ve been here for days, but you have not been here very long at all.”
Daisy propped her chin up against an arm rested on the plastic table.
“Anything good on?” she said, gesturing to the television.
“No,” Ella said. She switched on the television, which was not plugged into anything.
The screen displayed a white room with rounded corners. Sat in the middle of it was Daisy, in a white linen uniform like the one Ella was wearing, slumped against her bed. Her eyes were staring listlessly at the wall.
“My God,” Daisy said. “That’s me!”
“We’ve entered something of a dissociative fugue,” Ella said. “This isn’t actually what we look like, it’s what we imagine we look like. Through their cameras.”
Daisy huffed. “So, what are we doing here?”
“Waiting for someone,” Ella said.
“Waiting? I thought you said time has no meaning here? How can we wait for anyone?”
Ella simply smiled.
“You’ll see,” she said.
“Cryptic bullshit, that’s all I ever get out of you,” Daisy grumbled.
She flipped through the channels on the television set by turning the tuning dial. Every channel showed static, but for channel six, which seemed to depict, albeit hazily, a man in a flight-suit, suspended by chains from the ground.
“Who’s that?” Daisy said.
Ella looked at the screen.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “That person keeps showing up on that channel.”
Daisy leaned back in the chair.
“If all this is going on in my head, can I at least have an ice cream?”
She looked at her hand. There was an ice cream cone in her hand filled with soft-serve, with a Flake sticking out of the top.
The ice cream had always been there. It had not been conjured into existence so much as it had written itself into her memory.
Daisy licked at it.
It tasted, as she expected, of nothing but the memory of ice cream.
Daisy looked out across the sea. Waves shimmered across its surface, but never hit the sand.
Above them was an albatross, hanging still as if preserved in amber or a photograph. Its wings did not flap, and it did not cry.
Everything here was mere echoes of lived experience.
“I hope whoever we’re waiting for turns up soon,” Daisy said. “I’d like to get out of here, it’s giving me the creeps.”
“Be patient,” Ella said.
The television screen flickered and buzzed.
The ice cream did not melt.
*
Socks sat in the kitchen with his hands clasped between his knees. It was silent but for the sound of the kitchen clock, reverberating quietly. The walls and floor were still damaged, and had been haphazardly cordoned off with various items from around the house.
Across the table from him sat Dolly Mixture, who had said little to him when he came in, and Chelsea Rose, whose usual jocularity had been replaced by a raw intensity. Neither of them spoke to him much. He understood, or at least surmised, why that was.
On the table between them, which looked like it hadn’t been used to eat off of in days, was a guitar case.
The doorbell rang.
In the hallway, K-Os had been waiting for a visitor. She opened the door, and together they entered the kitchen.
Moss and algae grew where the visitor’s feet fell.
It was the first time Socks had seen Liberty since the first siege at the university.
“Hello, again,” she said.
“Where have you been all this time?” Dolly asked.
“Resting,” Liberty replied. “My wing was quite badly injured. I needed time to recuperate.”
“K-Os tells us you can help,” Socks said. “We’re trying to get our friend Daisy back.”
“Yes, I’ve heard,” Liberty said.
“Can you do it?” Chelsea Rose asked. Her voice sounded gruffer, more pointed than usual.
Liberty’s eyes travelled from the guitar to the back door.
“Let’s go outside.”
Dolly blinked twice, taken aback by the strange request. “Why?”
“Because,” Liberty said. “I need to show you something.”
Dolly nodded. “Alright.”
She stood, searching the kitchen drawers for the set of keys. Socks looked at K-Os. She remained silent. He could tell that she felt guilty for what had happened to Daisy, and her expression reflected this. She seemed to stare at the cabinets, not fully with them.
“Are you alright?” Socks asked.
K-Os looked up and at him.
“Fine,” she said. “Fine. You heard Liberty. Let’s go. Bring the guitar.”
Socks looked at the guitar.
“Really? But it’s…Daisy’s. It’s personal.”
“And she isn’t here right now. Bring the guitar.”
“Alright,” Socks said. “If you say so.”
He grabbed the guitar case and slung it around his back, and followed the others outside.
The back door led on to a step that went down to a patio. There was a lawn with flower beds and shrubs around it, and a path leading down the garden to a rotary washing line.
Liberty stepped on to the grass. The same serene look that had crossed her face in the secret garden crossed her face again.
“Alright, we’re outside,” Chelsea said. “Now what?”
She was dressed, as always, in a red jacket and black jeans. She had zipped up the jacket. It was November now, and the temperatures were dropping.
“Can’t you hear it?” Liberty asked.
“Hear what?” Dolly asked. “Listen, we don’t have time for games.”
“Listen yourself,” Liberty replied. “All of you, listen.”
There was no sound but for the cold breeze and the distant tweeting of birds.
“I don’t hear anything,” Socks said.
“Of course not,” Liberty said. “You don’t know how to listen.”
Liberty looked at them. The grass was growing around her feet.
“You,” she said, pointing to Dolly. “Join me on the grass.”
“Why me?” Dolly asked.
“You’re not wearing shoes or socks.”
It was true, Dolly was barefoot. Liberty looked at the others.
“Take off your shoes and socks,” she instructed them. “Except you, K-Os. You can sit this one out.”
“I would have said ‘no’ either way,” K-Os said, sitting on the step.
Socks took his shoes off. He was still wearing the same scuffed Reeboks he’d been wearing since last Christmas.
He removed the socks, too, and stepped on to the grass. It was cold.
“Hold my hands,” Liberty said.
Dolly and Chelsea each held Liberty’s hand, and then both held hands with Socks.
“Now,” Liberty said. “Listen.”
There was nothing at first. Nothing but
whispers.
Then
a rhythmic pulsing
like a heartbeat
information exchange
a silent conversation
a nervous system underground
talking always talking
what am I am what
you are ego are you
just as we see we smell we taste we hear we feel
we feel we feel we feel
the earth sees it smells it tastes it hears it feels
it feels it feels it feels
invisible lines information exchange
plant to prey to predator
a silent conversation
life is not violence
life is life is life
life is life is life
life is ordered chaos
life is life is life is life is life is life
life is information exchange
life is life is life is life is life is life
life is
life is
life is
life is
life is
breathing
breathing
breathing
breathing
now you understand
All three of them fell on the grass, writhing like earthworms. As a dream, the visions they had seen had been real, but after a few seconds they would not be able to recall them.
“Bliat!” Dolly exclaimed. “What the hell was that?!”
“You have learned to listen,” Liberty said. She smiled.
“Say something that makes sense,” Chelsea said. “Fuck me. I saw…I saw things…”
Socks’s head throbbed, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. It was like a migraine, if you replaced the pain with warm waves of serenity, but there was an undercurrent of fear, as well.
He had not been himself in there, wherever “there” was. He had been…
It had all made sense just a few seconds ago…like completing a jigsaw puzzle…now all the pieces had been dashed against the wall and he had to put them all back together again.
“Liberty,” he said, calmly. “What was that?”
“That’s how we’re going to find your friend,” Liberty said. “What you just felt were the strings.”
A very small number of the jigsaw pieces reassembled themselves.
“Strings…” Socks said.
*
The screen buzzed and flickered on the beach of echoes.
“Did you see that?” Daisy asked.
Ella had stood, and had a fist against her hip. She was looking out into the empty horizon.
“See what?” she said.
“On the screen. There was a picture. But I can’t remember what it was. That’s weird, it was so clear in my mind a minute ago…”
“Try retuning,” Ella said.
Daisy did so, turning the tuning dial. Nothing happened.
“Not getting anything now,” Daisy said. “What are you looking for out there, anyway? There’s nothing there.”
“Well, I don’t know where our visitor is coming from. They might be coming by sea, or by air, or by foot. I thought I’d watch the sea for passing ships.”
“Passing ships?” Daisy said. “But this is going on in my – in our head. How can there be ships out there?”
“I don’t know. Do you presume to know everything about your own mind?”
The television buzzed again. There was a voice audible, but it had the eerie uncanny buzz of a voice heard between two radio stations; recognisably human but so masked behind layers of static as to sound like the thoughts of a ghost.
“It happened again,” Daisy said.
Ella turned this time. “Which channel are you on?”
“Six,” Daisy replied. “I turned the dial all the way around.”
“Interesting…”
The television buzzed again.
“—ello, my name is—” More buzzing. “—an anyone out there—”
“Strange,” Ella said. “I wonder if there’s a way we can boost the signal.”
She walked over to the television and grabbed its side.
“What are you doing?” Daisy asked.
“—ame is—” the television sputtered. “—an an—ne ou—re hear m—”
“Cleansing the doors of perception,” Ella said.
She broke off the back right corner of the television set. It came away like a piece of chocolate cake in her hand, and from the wound in the television flowed a strange, silvery substance that resembled mercury.
The mercury spilled across the black sand, then formed a shape that vaguely resembled a human body, which proceeded to seat itself in the third deckchair. The face was obscured in a way Daisy couldn’t quite understand – though she was looking right at the face, it was like she was observing it out of the corner of her eye. The echo of a human face, like the terrifying apparitions one experiences when looking at a mirror in the dark.
“Is this the visitor we’re waiting for?” Daisy asked.
“I don’t think so,” Ella replied. “Hello,” she said, to the figure.
“Where am I?” the figure asked. Its voice was similarly obscure, sounding like many voices, male and female, as though heard on an old radio.
“The beach,” Ella said.
“And where’s that?” the figure asked.
“It’s in our head,” Daisy said. “At least, I think it is.”
“I think I’m lost,” the figure said. “Listen, I’m looking for someone through the strings.”
“The strings?” Ella asked. “We’re not familiar with that.”
“Too hard to explain,” the figure said.
Ella stepped over to the figure.
“What are you doing?” the figure asked.
“Trying to learn.”
“Don’t—” the figure said.
Ella placed her hand in the liquiform body.
Then
eternal conversation
as above, so below
a network of minds
within minds within minds
it’s alive
alive with thought and feeling
and colour and love and hate and
information information
chemical information transmitting
always transmitting
a radio station
that never goes off air
to whom are we speaking
everyone all the time forever
the universal ego
a self unto itself
the strings
communication lines
like cables
like radio waves
individuated mind forgets
a self unto itself
part of the gestalt
individuated mind forgets
the universal ego
now you understand
Ella drew her hand back rapidly.
“Fascinating,” she said. “It’s like an organic communications system.”
“I shouldn’t be here,” the figure said, agitated. “How do I get out of here?”
“I’m trying to answer the same question,” Daisy said. “We can’t leave until our visitor gets here.”
“Visitor?”
“Don’t look at me, she said it,” Daisy said, looking at Ella.
“Our visitor will arrive soon,” Ella said. “I know it.”
“Well, I hope they arrive quickly,” the figure replied. “I only have a limited amount of time to do this.”
“The visitor will be here soon,” Ella replied. “Be patient.”
The three of them sat together on the beach of echoes and waited.
*
The Fender Squier looked inert, but Socks knew that it quietly pulsed with chaotic energy; the stuff of life travelled along some invisible axis in its heart. Handling it without some reverence felt perverse.
Clearly, Dolly and Chelsea agreed, as they carefully removed it from its case in a manner similar to the way some religions may treat a holy book or effigy as though it were a living being. The guitar, though not ‘alive’ in a conscious sense, could be said to have a soul, and to simply swing it around thoughtlessly would be to deny this.
They conferred it into the hands of Liberty, who, recognising the object’s energy, had grasped it gently, yet firmly, and then laid it across her lap, closing her eyes and listening to its quiet whispering.
“Are you sure this will work?” K-Os asked.
“I think so,” she said, careful not to touch the guitar in any way that would upset its tunings, the tone controls or play a note on the strings. To do so seemed like sacrilege, a violation of moral precept. It was at present a divination device, and one that was to be treated respectfully if it was to shine a light on the path.
“What’s she doing?” Chelsea asked.
“I’m looking for an entry point,” Liberty replied. “I don’t wish to be rude, but I need silence.”
“Right you are,” Chelsea said.
“Closer,” Liberty said. “Closer, closer…it’s like a hole in the bottom of the world…shining gold…but also a door…a locked door…it doesn’t trust me.”
There was silence for a few moments.
“What now?” Chelsea said.
Dolly shushed her. “Let her do her work,” she whispered.
“Let me through, let me through,” Liberty said.
Around her, the grass of the lawn was growing tall, obscuring her legs and reaching towards the guitar.
“It’s looking for evidence that I have no ill intent,” Liberty said. “The door will not open unless I…unless I…yes…of course…”
There was a blue flash of light, and all, Chelsea included, covered their eyes.
It was the first time Liberty had manifested her wings in months.
Six wings sprouted from her back, white crystal veined with gold.
“Oh my God,” Dolly said.
“Let me through,” Liberty repeated. “It’s deliberating…it’s trying to understand what I am…it knows I am a friend of Daisy…I think it’s starting to trust me…still deliberating…still deliberating…the door is opening…it’s opening…I’m moving through…no, above…no, beyond…light, light! There’s a beach! There’s a…”
Liberty fell silent.
Her eyes were open, and her mouth hung agape.
K-Os skated across the grass towards her, and clicked her fingers in front of Liberty’s face a few times.
“She’s in,” she said, succinctly. “Now we wait to see if she comes back.”
Chelsea Rose nodded, then slapped her knees and stood.
“Who’s for a brew?” she asked.
*
The visitor arrived as though through sheets of thin fabric.
Daisy was the first to notice. The cliffs seemed to boil and twist their shape like a heat mirage, but more pronounced, as if the fabric of space was being wrenched apart. Then she realised it wasn’t the cliffs at all, but a point in space just above the sand, which widened into a hole.
Through the hole came a figure, glowing gold, whose body appeared to be composed of a substance like golden silk.
“Look!” she shouted. Ella looked where Daisy was pointing.
The golden figure began to approach them.
“Our visitor has arrived,” Ella remarked.
“ella foe [GREET] [IDENTIFY] you” the golden figure said.
“Yes, I am Ella Foe,” Ella said. “And this is Daisy. Welcome to the beach of echoes.”
“[LOOK] [LOCATE] you”
“We’re doing much the same,” Ella said.
“You understand it?” Daisy said. “How is it doing that with its mouth?”
“It’s speaking a universal languge of mind,” Ella said. “Normally semasiographic, pictorial. The language of the foetus, the language of dreams. Translating it into audible speech must take effort.”
“strings [LOCATE] you”
“We have just been introduced to the technology,” Ella replied. “It’s fascinating. I’d love to learn more.”
“[TIME] need [LOCATE] exact”
“Sounds to me like you’ve only managed to locate us in psychic space, or I suppose this ‘string’ space, and you’re now trying to find us on the material plane. Am I correct?”
“[“Am I correct?”][CONFIRM]”
“Good. We’ll just sit pretty here.”
There was a pause.
“wait”
“We are waiting,” Ella replied.
“wait”
“We’re going to wait here, yes.”
“wait”
“What are you talking about? Wait for what?”
“visitor [ARRIVE] expect”
“What?”
Through the hole that had been made by the golden figure came an androgynous figure, glowing blue.
The figure possessed six wings, and seemed to waver between being two people at once, blurring and melting into each other. As it walked, Daisy could see that while it possessed two legs at rest, as it walked the legs appeared to become translucent like stained glass, and it seemed to have four legs.
“Wait,” Daisy said. “If that’s the visitor, then who—”
The silvery figure stood.
“Libby?” it said, gazing at the blue figure. “Is that you?”
The bluish figure looked upon the silvery figure.
“Daddy?” it said.
“What the hell is going on?” Daisy asked.
“They used the guitar as a conduit,” Ella surmised. “It’s Liberty. She’s using the string network to contact us. She must have used Jules’s base pattern as an aperture into our psychic space.”
“Right,” Daisy said. “But that doesn’t explain what that thing is.”
The gold figure stood, silently watching.
“Daddy?” the bluish figure repeated. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been sending messages into the strings,” the silvery figure said. “These young ladies picked me up.”
Something’s not right here, Daisy thought.
“It’s so good to see you again,” said the bluish figure. “Those ladies are friends of my friends.”
“Strange,” Ella said.
The silvery figure turned to look at her.
“Why?”
“It’s almost too convenient,” Ella said. “I presume you are Liberty’s father, correct?”
“That’s right,” the silvery figure replied.
“Then what exactly is that thing?”
The silvery figure looked across at the bluish figure, then at the golden figure, which stood patiently, as though waiting for something.
“marine [CONCEPT] animal” it said.
“What does that mean?” Liberty asked.
“marine [CONCEPT] animal” the golden creature repeated. “pilot [SYMBIOTE] fish”
“It’s trying to use simile,” Ella said. “It’s comparing itself to a pilot fish.”
“[“It’s comparing itself to a pilot fish.”][CONFIRM] feed [IMPERATIVE]”
“It’s hungry,” Ella said.
“feed [IMPERATIVE] death”
“It’s going to starve if it doesn’t eat.”
“Then what does it eat?” Daisy asked.
There was a sound like glass breaking in reverse, and suddenly, Daisy found herself on the sand, screaming.
Her mind felt like it was on fire, and that was because it was.
The beach sundered, and from great cracks in the earth there spewed hot red liquid like magma, and the sea turned to an evil black fluid that smelled of ammonia and rotting fish.
“need [PAIN] you” the golden creature said.
The ground shook. Over the memory-sea, a hurricane of cognitive dissonance began to swirl together from conflicting unconscious ideas. The cliffs were bleeding. A thousand childhood traumas manifested in a seething bitter sleet. In the clouds, the forms of distorted faces perceived in long-forgotten nightmares moaned. And the bear, the bear from the nightmare she had when she was three, the bear with the multicolour-polkadot skin that had snatched her from her mother, the bear was crawling from under the sand where it had long since been buried…
“Liberty!” the silvery figure shouted. “Break the connection!”
“No!” Liberty cried. “We have to stay here! We need to find Daisy! And I can’t just leave you!”
“Libby, listen to me,” Liberty’s father said. “You don’t understand what you’ve unleashed. That creature lives in the strings. It followed you through the aperture. You haven’t yet learned how to close your mind off to prevent it following you.”
“Make it STOP!” Daisy screamed. Her head felt like it was going to split apart.
“But if we find Daisy, we can find you,” Liberty protested.
“Please, Libby,” her father said. “The only way to stop it is to close the aperture. It will only stay here as long as you are here.”
Liberty cried.
“Remember,” her father said. “No crying until the end, Libby.”
“Okay,” Liberty said. “I’ll—”
The golden creature lunged at her, coiling itself around her.
“No!” her father cried.
“allow [DEPART] no”
Liberty screamed.
The hurricane was drawing closer, and the bear was clawing its way out of the dirt, coming to take Daisy away again. The stink of rot and death hung heavy over the beach, then—
—a repressed memory of childhood, she had found the headless corpse of a gull in a park, its body festering and covered in flies, and she had touched it—
It was raining dead, decapitated gulls. Ragged feathers and congealed blood, and a repeated admonition from an unseen caregiver:
“Don’t touch anything! Don’t put your fingers anywhere near your face! How could you be so stupid, girl? How could you do something so disgusting?”
“I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Daisy was sobbing. “I didn’t know. I thought it was a sleeping hedgehog. Oh God, I thought it was a hedgehog…”
Liberty’s father was trying to leap at the golden creature, but the chasm of fire was too great, and he was stretched too thin.
“weak [PAIN] better” the golden creature said.
The beach seemed to be collapsing, folding in on itself, turning into an atom balanced on the head of a pin, shrinking into a singularity, was this what it was like to die? Ego collapsing, the bottom’s falling out, where am I going is a question that has no meaning because there is no I—
“No,” someone said.
Everything fell silent.
Pain ceased.
For a moment, Daisy thought she had died.
This was disproven when she opened her eyes and sat up.
The golden creature had uncoiled itself from the bluish figure’s body. It was reeling.
“do [COMPREHEND] not” it said.
The bluish figure had changed shape. The six wings still sprung from its back, but the body was far more masculine. It was then that she realised what she was seeing.
“Jules?” she asked.
The figure did not look at her, as the golden creature reared up to attack.
The figure beat it back with sapphire fists, and the golden creature moaned and roared like piano wire being pulled through a grinder.
“possible [NOT][DIE] should” the golden creature moaned.
“You cannot kill me,” the bluish figure said, in a familiar voice. “I am already dead. I am a whisper of a memory. I am sworn to protect this place, and you have trespassed here.”
The creature sputtered, then roared, charging at the bluish figure.
“kill [KILL] kill”
With a final strike, the bluish figure hurled the golden creature back towards the aperture.
The creature screamed as its body was forced through the hole, causing it to collapse in on itself, like milk vanishing down a drain.
“Jules!” Daisy shouted.
The bluish figure looked at her, and then its features blurred, transforming back into Liberty.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “He – it – the guitar took over…it said something about protecting you.”
“You haven’t killed it,” the silvery figure said. “You’ve simply broken it into pieces. It’ll come back together eventually.”
“I’m sorry,” Liberty said. “I didn’t know.”
“Our head hurts,” Ella said. “Everyone needs to get out of here.”
“I can’t leave,” Liberty said. “I need to know where my father is.”
“It’s all right, Libby,” the silvery figure said. “I’m alright. You’re here for your friend. Help her, not me.”
“Daddy—”
“Find her, Libby.”
Liberty, crying, walked towards Ella Foe, who held out a hand to her.
She took Ella’s hand.
A cacophony of whispers sang into her through the strings.
a sense of place
the smell of concrete and dust
underground
protection against death
this place she laments her wasted existence
she was formed here for a purpose
she craves the kiss of fission
the bomb at the end of history
fill her womb with baptismal fire
she begs that you affirm her
consecrate her
sacrifice your bodies to her apotheosis
politician heal thyself
hierophant of lies and power
so you may rule over ashes
anoint her with actinide dust
she hungers for charred corpses
the air all full of carcinogen
a million eyes blinded
this is her purpose
plague and famine
behold pale horse
and war
name sat upon him death
the war that never was
hell followed him
the war that never can be
the war that is still to come
where are you
and now here is a reminder about fallout warnings
when fallout is expected
you will hear three bangs in short succession
like this
or you may hear three gongs
like this
or you may hear three whistles
like this
now you understand
Liberty withdrew her hand. She took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ve found you,” she said.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Ella said. “I was getting worried for a second there.”
“It’s time for me to leave,” the silvery figure said. “Keep searching, Liberty.”
“Daddy,” Liberty said. “Wait—”
Without another word, the silvery figure placed a hand inside the television set, and disappeared into it.
“I think you ought to leave, too,” Ella said. “Our mindscape cannot handle your presence much longer.”
Liberty sighed miserably.
The air seemed to ripple and boil around her, and she vanished.
The beach had healed, but a scar of black volcanic glass had been left down the middle of it. The hurricane had dissipated. The bear had withdrawn to its underground tomb, and the rain of headless gulls had been replaced, curiously, by bottles of hand sanitiser.
Daisy steadied herself against the table and flopped into a deck chair.
“Was that the visitor?” she asked.
“Yes,” Ella said. “Though I hadn’t anticipated quite so many of them. I’d have brought more chairs.”
Daisy rubbed her eyes.
“I think I’m going to go back out there now,” she said. “I think they’re expecting me.”
“Of course,” Ella replied. “See if you can get us some paracetamol for this headache.”
A moment later, Daisy was no longer there, and Ella was alone on the beach.
“Strings, hmm?” Ella said, to herself. “Interesting. Very, very interesting.”
*
Liberty gasped suddenly in such a way that made Socks almost leap out of his skin, then fell on to her back in something resembling a grand mal seizure, her wings flapping madly against the grass. The guitar fell away from her lap as she writhed on the ground. Her nose was bleeding heavily.
“Jesus Christ!” Dolly shouted, running towards her. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Don’t touch her,” K-Os said. “Those wings will injure you.”
Dolly stopped just short of Liberty’s side. The shaking subsided, and the wings retracted. The bleeding almost immediately staunched, and life seemed to return to her eyes. She rolled over, then covered her mouth, motioning for something.
Dolly quickly grabbed an empty flower pot, and Liberty proceeded to be violently sick into it.
“What the hell happened to you in there?” Dolly asked.
“A map,” Liberty said, licking blood from her upper lip. “Get me a map.”
“A map?”
“Now. Now!”
Dolly pulled out her phone and handed it to Liberty.
“A paper map,” Liberty said. “I don’t know how to use these damn lightboxes.” (Coming from Liberty, ‘damn’ felt like quite a strong profanity.)
“How can you not know how to use a mobile phone?” Chelsea asked. “If I can use a mobile phone, surely you can.”
“When you can make life spring freely from the Earth under your influence, then you may speak to me about my capabilities, or lack thereof,” Liberty said.
Chelsea Rose paused for a beat, then nodded.
“Fair deuce.”
Dolly dashed into the house in a frantic search for a map, returning with a battered-looking Ordnance Survey.
“Why do you have a book of street maps?” Socks asked. “What are you, pensioners?”
“Bike likes to look at them when it’s resting,” Chelsea said.
“Of course,” Socks replied, throwing his hands up. “Why would I not assume that was the case?”
Dolly handed Liberty the book of maps. Frantically, Liberty flipped through the book and tore out a page.
“Oi!” Chelsea said. “Bike won’t be happy about that.”
Liberty handed Dolly the page.
“Wiltshire,” she said. “They’re holding her in Wiltshire. Right here.”
She pointed to an empty area of grey squares and rectangles. The road that Liberty pointed to was not labelled on the map.
“Are you sure?” Dolly asked.
“Yes,” Liberty said. “The strings don’t lie.”
“We shall have to conduct some research and reconnaissance,” K-Os said. “Find out what’s in Wiltshire.”
“Yes, we shall,” Dolly said.
K-Os narrowed her eyes.
“What do you mean by that?” she asked.
“It is my understanding that it is due to your mismanagement that Daisy is currently in government custody,” Dolly said. “Therefore, I am relieving you of responsibility for her recovery. Myself and Chelsea will plan to break her out instead.”
There was a long pause.
“I beg your pardon?” K-Os said.
“K-Os, darling,” Dolly said. “For the living personification of chaos, you are a terrible anarchist.”
“Don’t play cute with me,” K-Os spat. “Do you have any idea what you are getting yourself into?”
Chelsea smirked. “You can join us, if you’re that concerned. But you won’t be the one calling the shots this time. It’s time that we had a turn in the driver’s seat, love.”
“You’re both as suicidal as you are stupid,” K-Os replied. “If you want to kill yourselves, go right ahead. Socks, Liberty, come. We’re going.”
“Toodle-oo,” Dolly said. “If you change your mind, we’ll be right here.”
“Fuck off,” K-Os replied, skating out of the garden.
“It was nice seeing you again,” Socks said, standing. “Thanks for the tea.”
“You are always welcome, Socks,” Dolly said.
Socks held out his hand for her to shake. She took it, then pulled him close and kissed him on the cheek, before whispering in his ear: “It’s not very becoming of you to be a lapdog, Socks. Remember that.”
Socks drew his hand away from her. In her ironic, vaguely mocking eyes and girlish, coy smile, he caught a memory of the day he had first met Dolly. So much had happened since then.
“Goodnight,” Dolly said.
“See you, Tilburys,” Chelsea added.
Socks replied with some vague platitude, and then turned and walked away.
Liberty had waited in the front garden for him. K-Os, in her anger, had not.
“Everything alright?” Liberty asked. “You seem flustered.”
“It’s nothing,” Socks said. “Just…something she said.”
“I won’t pry,” Liberty said. “I’ve never been one for interpersonal drama. I like plants. Very honest beings.”
As they reached the road, Liberty held a hand out at a patch of grass.
“Valerian, camomile, ” she whispered.
From the ground, a patch of stems grew, and from the stems grew tiny blossoms of pinkish-white and daisy-like flowers with white petals and yellow middles. Liberty knelt, pulling the flowers, roots and all, from the ground, and handed them to Socks.
“What are these for?” he asked.
“It’ll help you relax,” she replied. “Root of valerian and flower of camomile make a good, calming tea.”
“Thank you, that’s very thoughtful of you.”
“If those don’t work, I’m sure I can grow you some cannabis,” Liberty said.
Socks laughed.
“I’m not joking.”
“Cannabis is illegal.”
Liberty laughed. “Now that’s a joke,” she said.
“It wasn’t a joke,” Socks said.
“A plant is as ‘illegal’ as you pretend it is,” Liberty said. “Plants are ungovernable. We should aspire to be more like them.”
“I see why you get along with K-Os.”
“That’s what we’ve always believed,” Liberty said. “Nobody rules us but ourselves.”
“And who’s ‘us’?”
Liberty smiled, biting her tongue.
“That’s a story for another time.”
“I figured as much,” Socks said. “But perhaps you can help me with something else instead.”
“Yes? And what might that be?”
“It’s about this girl I’ve just met,” Socks said. “She seems to think she knows you.”
“Knows me? What’s her name?”
“She answers to the name of ‘Monica’…”
They walked away into the twilight together, and autumn night fell upon them once again.
Another time, another place…
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ARC THREE: NEW CULTURE
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