Chapter 18 Hazel #2
‘CHARL1E!’ She hails him on the comms but, as in the greenhouse, he doesn’t respond. ‘For goodness’ sake, you stupid AI, electrocution is not how you stop an argument!’
Realising she’ll have to circumvent the wave of electricity, she veers towards the ocean, wading in up to her calves, until she reaches the Tinys’ side of the argument. Just as the electricity meets the Tinys’ toing and froing, Hazel dives between them, arms out. ‘Stop it, all of you!’
To her right, Tree’s roots cling to the ground like fingers, clutching the Tiny burrows; to her left, CHARL1E’s electric fury crackles in the disturbed dust. And she set her right foot upon the tree, and her left foot on the cables … Feeling exceedingly small, Hazel digs for her voice.
‘When I leave here, no one is else coming. I’m the last Traveller, and the last human.
CHARL1E, I’m giving you a body, and Tinys, I fixed Tree.
I did these things for you, but I also did them because together you’re my last hope.
You could still change things, but only if you get along.
There are no Keepers left, and no Caretakers, it’s just you.
The future is yours. Even though I’ve tried my best and failed at everything, you can still succeed.
Understand?’ Her voice breaks, and her eyes grow hot.
‘I’m giving you my world and I need you to take care of it, even though I didn’t manage to. ’
There’s a long pause, in which one of Robin’s wheels squeaks. CHARL1E’s electricity spits but doesn’t advance. And as she spoke, one hundred automata stood in consideration …
Tree’s branches sway, making a light breeze, and a glowing thread flares from her roots.
The Tinys part to make way for the dazzling amber cord reaching towards Hazel.
At her feet it splits, encircling her, growing upwards from the ground in vines of light, sinuous rather than lightning-sharp.
The golden filaments fold around her, pressing against her insulating rubber biosuit in an electric embrace.
Whether or not CHARL1E and the Tinys listened, Tree did.
The net of light releases Hazel and pools across the ground. It slips down the path the Tinys made for it, but pauses at the burrows, spreading outwards to catch the robots and Hazel in a circle. Inch by inch, the circle shrinks, pushing them towards CHARL1E’s blue sharp sparks.
Tree and CHARL1E’s electric charges meet on the old dead ground, making constellations so bright they leave pink stains in Hazel’s vision.
Caught between the two sparkling nets, the Tinys panic, spinning on the spot with spiralling tails.
Even Hazel, so confident in Tree just moments ago, flushes with nerves.
‘Don’t disappoint me now, Tree,’ she whispers.
Robin, with more bravery than Hazel has, ventures forward and reaches its good hand towards Tree’s sparks.
The sparks reach back, sending a golden fizz down its arm, across its hull, and back into the earth.
Robin darts back, surprised, then dashes forth again, this time spinning on the spot as it’s inundated by glittering current.
The third time, Tree sends a little of CHARL1E’s blue sparkle alongside the gold, and Robin flinches, shaking its arms like it does when Hazel mentions the Catopic Aperture.
No, thank you! Then it tilts its lenses, as if listening to something distant.
Setting its wheels determinedly, it stretches a hand towards the electricity again and Tree offers it a slightly higher dose of blue sparks.
Robin adopts the listening pose once more, then its tail twirls and it reaches out with both arms, broken and whole hands alongside each other, like a kid asking to get picked up.
Presently, it’s confident enough to trundle directly into the enmeshment of blue and gold sparkles, until the only bit of Robin Hazel can see is its tail-tip, swaying above the current.
One by one, the other Tinys follow, until all of them are swimming in the electric sea.
Safe in the thick rubber biosuit, Hazel walks into the fray, and Tree and CHARL1E close up the circle of dirt behind her.
In the hot bright centre of CHARL1E and Tree’s fusion, Hazel sits on a breeze-block amongst the rubble.
Limestone and clay, ore and oil—she probably has the whole world in the few inches under her feet.
She examines her suit, marvelling at the thick, meticulously patched rubber, as if whoever took care of it knew one day it would need to be electricity-proof.
Tree and CHARL1E’s currents wash over her, and the Tinys splash about, making gestures of happiness and excitement when they pass.
Hazel’s oxygen monitor bleeps. Alas, it’s time to get back to the Hab Dome.
Gold and blue sparks kiss her feet every step of the way home.
At the airlock door, she stops for one last look at the electric sea.
And she said unto me, Thou shall hold this apocalypse in my stead from now till time is through, for though nations, tongues, and lands demise, you and those that abide with you shall endure in manners and methods beyond my sight.
In the morning, the ground between the Domes and Tree is streaked with soot and tyre tracks.
Joints aching, Hazel stretches out of the garden chair in the greenhouse where she fell asleep.
A persistent clatter comes from beyond the open trapdoor, and Hazel totters over to investigate, wincing as she triggers pins and needles in her legs.
In the gloom below, Robin’s running its fingers over the lowest step.
‘Morning,’ Hazel mumbles, still half asleep. ‘What are you up to?’
Robin spins in a circle, broken hand outstretched—no, not broken, mended.
Hazel rushes downstairs, counting the fingers and examining rivets. ‘Tree’s singing properly again? She mended you?’
Robin nods, then holds up its arms, pointing at the trapdoor.
‘You want me to carry you upstairs?’
Another nod, dangerously enthusiastic this time.
‘Alright. If you’re sure.’
Hazel hauls the Tiny up the staircase. At the top, Robin sets its lens wipers in a horizontal line and zooms to the plastic arm of the Catopic Aperture, gesturing at the future cradle.
Hazel’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘You want to get inside? For real?’
It hesitates, then nods firmly.
‘Well, OK then.’ However, when Hazel opens the cradle door, Robin zips behind her legs, hiding from what’s inside. She pulls out the Eikos Muthos, putting it in Robin’s hands. ‘It’s just a book, nothing to be scared of. But you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.’
Robin creeps forward, extending its lenses to look in the cradle. Satisfied it’s empty, and clutching the Eikos Muthos, it points at the cradle again.
As carefully as she can, Hazel puts the Tiny inside the mirrored capsule, still clutching the book.
Robin retracts its lenses and limbs as far as possible, gazing around in an uncertain ball.
She strokes the top of Robin’s lenses until it’s calm.
‘I get why you’re scared, but the Eikos Muthos didn’t get damaged when I did this last time, so I think you’ll be OK.
You can keep it with you if you like? And I won’t lock the door so you can open it if you need. ’
Robin’s tail sways, perhaps seeking comfort from its comrades, and it nods slowly.
‘I’ll be as fast as possible.’ She closes the hatch and dashes about setting up the rest of the Aperture, before shutting herself in her own cradle.
Rather than flashing through numerous images of the Backward Traveller As Was, this time the reflections settle on one scene, Echo in her home context, seen through the reflections in sloshing washing-up water, windows, and taps.
The dishes clatter in the sink without any white noise interference.
Hazel can even pick up the humming fridge. It’s painfully familiar.
‘Hello?’ Hazel says, testing whether the sound is two-way.
Echo jumps, staring wide-eyed at the washing-up water, where she must see Hazel’s face gazing back. It works!
‘Hello?’ Hazel tries again.
Backing away from the water, Echo shakes her head, muttering. ‘What the heck?’
‘I know this seems impossible, but please just stay calm.’
Pressed against the fridge on the opposite side of the tiny kitchen, Echo keeps shaking her head. ‘This isn’t real.’
Worried about pushing her sister over the edge, Hazel says more gently, ‘It is real. It’s me, it’s Hazel. We need to talk.’
Echo squeezes her eyes shut. ‘This isn’t happening.’
Outside the cradle in the greenhouse, there’s a bang, and Hazel’s mouth goes dry as she remembers Robin.
‘I have to go now,’ she says to Echo. ‘Please, don’t be frightened.
I’ll be back, next time for longer, and we can talk properly.
’ But Echo returns a stare of sheer panic which makes Hazel realise that, tricky as it’s been, contacting the Backward Traveller As Was might have been the easy part.
Her sister is hearing messages from reflections in mirrors and washing- up water, of course she thinks she’s hallucinating. Hazel should’ve seen that coming.
Another crash from outside and the Aperture starts powering down.
The Backward Traveller As Was fades from view and Hazel flips the cradle open, jumping out and running to Robin.
The Tiny has bashed the cradle door open and is sticking its arms and lenses out, gesticulating wildly. I was brave, it worked, did I do well?
‘Yes, Robin,’ Hazels replies, lifting it to the ground. ‘You did very well. Why did you stop the machine? Are you hurt?’
It shakes its head, checking its limbs and tail are all in one piece.
‘Were you getting frightened?’
It nods, curling its tail.
‘It’s alright, you don’t need to be embarrassed. Would you be up for trying this again? Not today, but maybe tomorrow, and for a bit longer?’
It tilts its lenses, thinking, then nods.
‘Thank you, Robin. You’re very brave.’