The Rainbow Maker's Tale Read online

  My final test was to see if the metal had any effect on the scanner network. I’d tried every one of the major systems operating within the Quarter and this was the only one left. When it affected nothing as I passed it in front of the sensors – they still recognised and scanned the identity mark on the inside of my wrist passing my whereabouts back to the central information system – I was sourly disappointed. About to dismiss it once and for all, a last second spark of inspiration told me to place the metal sliver over the mark itself and try passing the scanner again.

  Pressing the cool metal against my skin and holding it firmly in place with my fingers, whilst still allowing the smooth surface to be exposed, I stepped cautiously towards the scanner. In two more steps I’d passed the sensor and was now standing just inside the entrance to Park 42.

  This time there was nothing. No beep as the sensor distinguished the individual strokes that made up my unique mark. No beep to let me know that it had registered my presence moving from the residential zone and into the park. There was nothing. And nothing was fantastic.

  * * *

  Pulling myself back to the present from my recollections of how I’d come to own the metal band I was about to put to use, I found myself standing in the small plaza before the Red Zone Library and Information Depository. The building had four levels and was identical to the two other libraries that existed in the Blue and Black Zones: transparent resin outer walls provided a clear view of the people milling about inside. Some were seated at workstations, some reviewing the information cartridges that filled the near endless shelves of the depository. In a nod to classical Earth architecture, tall Roman columns flanked the entrance. The columns were the only distinguishing feature of the building. They were modelled in resin with a tiny grey-black speckled effect running through it, to make them appear like marble – doing this only made the attempt at replication even more contrived.

  Putting aside my gripes on construction materials, I trudged forwards. Plastic or not, this was the perfect place to get lost for a few hours. Wrapping my fingers around the familiar band in my pocket I casually passed through the main entrance to the library, listening for the distinct beep as the scanner read my mark and registered my presence in the building.

  Once inside, I passed the assistants at the reception desk and made my way to the staircase at the back of the building. Springing up the empty steps, I kept going until I reached the top floor. It was usually busier here than the other levels because the information stored here was geared towards recreation and entertainment. I smiled to myself when I saw that many of the workstations were occupied, with a steady stream of people waiting to use them.

  Perfect. I grinned and headed off in search of some data cartridges.

  The queue of people reduced quickly and before long I found myself seated at a workstation with a stack of five data cartridges clenched in my hands. With a cursory glance at the occupied stations around me – as usual no one was paying me any attention – I reached below the workstation and began feeding the cartridges into the waiting slots. Once all five were securely loaded I loosened the ties on my school sack and rummaged around until I found what I was looking for at the bottom: another data cartridge. Pulling it out, I slipped the final cartridge into place in the data unit and then sat up.

  Another swift peek around the room told me that nothing had changed in the ten seconds it had taken me to load up the machine. Everyone nearby was still absorbed with whatever was on their workstations and paying me no attention at all. Pulling the lightweight keyboard towards me I ran my mark over the integrated scanner and began logging in to the system. Once the initial login had completed, my fingers flew across the keys typing in a range of commands to activate the data cartridge I’d brought with me.

  The screen flickered once – barely visible – as the program inside my data cartridge took over the workstation operating system. The camera built into the workstation viewing screen activated and began filming me. I sat as still as I could so that the images being recorded could be easily looped over one another to create the impression I was sat at the screen quietly reading. Allowing my eyes to flicker slowly from left to right over and over again, the camera continued recording me for three minutes before clicking off and switching from the live feed to the recorded images now stored inside the data cartridge.

  First step completed. I nodded to myself as my fingers found the keyboard again. I entered the command string to begin running the second stage of the program, that would activate the cartridges I’d picked up from the library. It would begin slowly running through the various data files saved onto the cartridges; combined with the camera recording, it would give the impression that I was sat here, reading the contents. Five cartridges would keep anyone occupied for a good few hours.

  The program began and I watched the screen as the first couple of text files opened before me. Nothing changed for thirty seconds and then the next stage of the program kicked-in. The image of the text files disappeared, to be replaced by the message OUT OF SERVICE in large white letters on the blank screen. This was the standard holding page that indicated a piece of equipment was not functioning and had been flagged for repair – the program code for this was a nice acquisition from one of my numerous excursions into Father’s office – and never drew any attention.

  “Oh no,” I muttered softly as though to myself, but really for the benefit of anyone overhearing me. “This system’s malfunctioned,” I added, as I pushed my chair back from the now inoperable workstation that was running my hidden program behind the standard breakdown notice.

  No one was listening, or even turned towards me as I stepped away and walked to the back of the room. Perfect execution, I thought as I descended the stairs and slipped the waiting metal band from my pocket onto my wrist. Even if my parents bothered to wonder where I was this afternoon – which I didn’t think they would – they would see that I was being as studious as ever, happily occupied at the library.

  Passing back through the main entrance, alongside three others, I allowed myself a small smile when the scanning system met my presence with silence. The wristband did its job and I was free to go wherever I wanted. I could do whatever I wanted – safe in the knowledge that I was truly invisible.

  My earlier conversation with Cassie was still distracting me, and I knew I needed some time to get distance and perspective. Instinctively, I headed in the direction of my second home.

  The busier streets fell behind me as I made my way deeper into the residential avenues of the Red Zone. Taking the path between the edge of the zone and the full height wall that divided the Family Quarter from the Married Quarter, I saw no one. I couldn’t imagine anyone using this pathway to get home as I was walking past the back of the apartment blocks. The solitude was familiar. Being alone again felt natural…normal. Almost normal, I corrected myself. I could not ignore the odd niggling sensation that I’d felt since leaving Cassie in Park 17. This time I didn’t bother with my list of reasons as to why I shouldn’t feel this way. It was pointless telling myself lies.

  The entrance to Park 42 was shaded from the bright light of the overhead mirrors by large trees that grew closely together around the periphery of the recreational area. Their thick, leaf-laden branches reached high enough that at pavement level they hid from view the expanse of rocky, rough terrain that stretched out beyond the secluded entrance. Crossing the boundary into the park I broke into a gentle jog, and turned along the familiar path that would lead me to the outlook.

  Pumping my arms and legs rhythmically as I ran, I felt the comforting glow of warmth spreading through my body, that exercise brought. I concentrated on my breathing, slowly in through the nose and out through the mouth. It wasn’t laboured or difficult; each breath brought a new wave of cooling energy into my body that my mobile limbs transformed into fuel to keep powering themselves along. The release and freedom of running made me feel real – human even – just as it always did. What was odd – for
me – was that it wasn’t the first time today that I’d felt this way.

  Was Cassie really different to everyone else – or was that just what I wanted to see?

  The question began to turn over in my mind as I continued running. The effect she had on me was certainly unlike anyone else, but that fact didn’t necessarily make her special in any way. Special? No – Attractive? Yes. I was beginning to recall why I always tried to stay away from other people: they only made things confusing for me.

  My feet pounded onwards and my breathing sped up as I ascended the hilly path that would lead me to the outlook. For now I focused only on moving my arms and legs and pushed every other distraction away. I was already good at this, having had a lot of practice at keeping my thoughts to myself. By the time the path became very steep, and I had to slow to a halting climb, my brain was comfortably numb and blank.

  Chapter 4

  I sat atop a rocky outcrop; it had taken me twenty minutes to climb up to this point and it was worth it. The blank peace I’d been enjoying was fading away now and my brain was waking up once more. Slowly, conscious thought pushed its way back into my head forcing me to acknowledge the niggling questions I had shut out on my climb. But the thoughts were not overpowering just yet, and I was able to let my mind wander a little longer.

  As I waited I brushed my hands lightly over the small tufts of grass beside me, prickling my skin slightly as the blades stabbed upwards at my fingers. It was a coarse, dry grass that existed here on the rock, unlike the lush and tended lawns of the other parks. It was the reason I loved this place. It was one of the things that made it real.

  This grass was a natural occurrence in the formulaic and manufactured world I existed in and distrusted so much. The sparse soil pockets that the grass seeds planted themselves into were not placed on the crevices by design, but had sprung up over time as the air circulation system of the station forced minute amounts of dust into the atmosphere of the Family Quarter. In most places this dust would be invisible where it settled or was periodically cleaned away, but not up here. There was no one to clean the dust away here because no one really came to this park except me. (I’d already made sure of this by checking the scanner records, once I’d found a way to hack in to the system. Very few people even ventured into the park, let alone stayed long enough to indicate they had travelled sufficiently far to reach my current location). Over time, seeds from the parks and residential zone lawns must have mingled into the dust and found their way here. Then they settled themselves into place, to wait for the opportunity of light and moisture to make them grow. Nature always finds a way, I mused dreamily. It was a reassuring notion.

  My gaze drifted lazily over the landscape of the Family Quarter spread out before me. Park 42 sat at the outer edge of the quarter, reportedly close to the external walls of the space station itself. Not that my calculations on gravitational pull would support the theory that we would have such a strong gravitational field on board if the Family Quarter truly was the largest section of the space station. But, I had no proven alternative to offer at this point in time, as to what the alternatives might exist, and so I dismissed the problem, just as I had many times before.

  Up here I could see pretty much everything, whilst remaining near invisible myself: the rock face was so similar in colour to the grey external walls at the edges of the Family Quarter that it blended in almost completely. If I hadn’t been climbing out here in the park one day – something that was not permitted due to the dangers it posed – then I probably would have been ignorant to its existence myself.

  There was no denying that the view was impressive: it was the highest reachable point within the station. In the distance to the left, my eyes picked out three tall buildings stretching from the middle of a group of smaller ones, that made up the main hub at the centre of the Black, Green and Blue residential zones. The Clinic – where Mother worked – was the tallest of the three. From here they appeared small and almost unreal, like a model I might have made and placed on a table to walk around and peer into, as though I were a giant.

  I was no giant. If I had been I probably would have smashed the towers into pieces, enjoying each snap and crack as I destroyed another of the symbols of the lies we were told about ourselves.

  How could the others not see it? This question troubled me now, just as it always did. Was I more observant than them, or were they just more a part of the system than I was?

  Not for the first time I considered again whether it was me who was the problem – some genetic throwback with inherited mental imbalances – I dismissed that, as usual. I’d already tested myself extensively to see if my observations were hallucination or paranoia. They were neither.

  My thoughts drifted back to the day I’d found the secondary receiver inside my viewing screen. I remembered immediately my anger at being proved right once more: we were being lied to and watched. What was the purpose of it? Surely, it would only make sense to lie, if there was something to hide…?

  It always surprised me how much I wanted my research and investigations to prove me wrong and not the system I in lived within. I wanted to be the failure and anomaly, not everyone else. After all, that would be the easier thing to believe. So far, that had not happened. I had always been proved right and it had been that way since the first day I began to suspect. Before I could stop myself, I found I was tumbling headlong into a memory I usually kept hidden.

  * * *

  It was Saturday. And I was happy. There was no school today – my favourite meals were on the menu for rotation at both lunch and dinner – I’d done all of my homework – and the door buzzer had just announced that my best friend, Scarlett, had arrived at our apartment.

  “Hello Scarlett,” I heard Mother’s voice as the door was answered.

  “Hi,” Scarlett replied in her usual cheerful lilt. My face expanded automatically into a wide grin at the sound.

  Scarlett had joined our class at the start of the year – apparently she’d been a year below us, but her academic skills were so advanced that they’d moved her into our year group – it made the class an uneven eleven students, when they were normally even numbers of boys and girls, but that didn’t matter really. We’d been placed as partners on some of the team projects and after doing them so well, had been pretty much inseparable ever since.

  “Hey!” Scarlett greeted me as she wandered into my bedroom and flopped onto my still unmade bed.

  “Hey,” I nodded in response, glad when I was reminded of the fact that our relationship was so easy – so natural.

  “So, are we still going to do what you said today?” Scarlett asked me, absently twirling a sliver of blonde hair around her finger. Sometimes she looked a lot younger than seven, but she was still smarter than pretty much anyone else I knew. It was almost scary.

  “Sshhh!” I hissed, trying to remind her without proper words that this was a secret expedition. Mother knew we were going to the park – but I didn’t think she’d approve of the wild-looking one I’d selected. I’d never been to Park 42 before, but from what I’d seen on the station information channel it looked perfect for a bit of exploring – almost like a real place instead of the carefully designed, man-made parks, I’d spent the rest of my life visiting.

  “OK – sorry!” Scarlett shushed back at me, before whispering her question again. “So, are we?”

  I nodded, yes. Then had to giggle mutely when Scarlett began waving her small hands around in the air and giving a silent cheer of celebration.

  “Do you two want any breakfast before you leave?” Mother asked politely from the doorway, her head half-way into the room. Her sudden appearance interrupted my silent laughter and Scarlett abruptly dropped her arms.

  “No thanks, Mother,” I replied recovering swiftly, “we’re going to grab something on the way to the park.”

  “OK – well make sure you do,” Mother said, drawing back from the room and heading off in the direction of the kitchen.

 
Once Mother’s footsteps had faded away along the corridor, Scarlett leaned close to me, her small hand rising up to cover the side of her mouth as she whispered, not that anyone was watching us now. “Is it still just us?” she asked.

  I nodded once to say yes.

  “You didn’t ask Cassie then?” Scarlett sounded a little huffy. “You said you were going to invite her to join us.”

  I didn’t need reminding of the promise I’d made. For some unknown reason, Scarlett really wanted to be friends with Cassie.

  “I’m sorry – I was going to ask her,” I said, before Scarlett pulled a face. “I promise I was going to ask. But, it was too difficult – you know how popular she is – there were always other people there.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so shy,” Scarlett muttered, half to herself, “You should give her a chance, Cassie would love to be friends with you…and me,” she added herself as though it was an afterthought.

  “I’m sure Cassie’s just dying to be friends with me, the super-brain!” I shook my head, still packing up my bag.

  “Yes she would. I know it.” Scarlett’s normally gentle voice was surprisingly insistent.

  “Yeah, well – it’s not happening today.”

  “You did promise,” Scarlett pouted a little.

  “If you care so much, next time you ask her to come.” I grumbled in response, my face screwing into a frown. Why was it such a big deal whether Cassie came or not? This was supposed to be our adventure.

  “You’re right, I’m sorry.” Scarlett apologised when the silence began to stretch out.

  “It’s OK, it doesn’t matter.” I told her truthfully. “And next time, we will ask Cassie, if you want.” Scarlett smiled at my words. “Just don’t be surprised if she doesn’t say yes.” I muttered to myself.