Edsel Grizzler (7 page)

There was one more reason behind Edsel's decision to climb into that cockpit, although he did not know it at the time. Something was calling him, something soft and low, like a quiet breeze or a whisper in the night, and it was drawing him in. He wasn't aware yet, but through the Egg, he was being called to Another Place. And that yearning call, combined with a subtle push from the dreariness of West Malaise, was all it really took to make Edsel reach out his right index finger, just as Hoagy – and probably Kenny – had done, and press the green button, all the way in.

I
nside the dome, the flash was more white than blue, and incredibly bright. It surprised Edsel to note that as the flash happened, there was no sound. If he'd bothered to expect anything, he might have been waiting for a bang, or a high-pitched whine, a bit of a pop at the very least. But there was nothing. In fact, it seemed like
less
than nothing. It was more like a tiny fraction of a moment where all sound was completely sucked away.

As he waited for his sight to recover, he ran a quick check over himself. It felt like his arms and legs were okay, he could breathe, he didn't feel sick, he didn't feel dizzy or weak or sore. There was just the lingering glare in his eyes and the amazing silence, which continued. Certainly he'd seen nothing so far that could explain Hoagy's hysterical reaction. Or Kenny's, for that matter.

At last his vision was returning, and Edsel looked around. He expected to see the front of his house with the huge blue butterfly on the wall, but he didn't. He expected to see the garden, and the hedge, and the street, and Kenny Sampson's house, but he didn't. All he could see was grey, as if he was staring into a heavy fog. Then he saw a line, like an horizon, before realising that it was the join between a grey floor and a grey wall.

As his eyes continued to adjust, he finally saw where he was. His Egg was standing in the middle of a round grey room, and the wall that extended all the way around the room came together above him to form a roof. It seemed that beyond his little plexiglass dome was a much larger, room-sized grey dome.

It surprised Edsel to note how calm he felt. Perhaps I'm in shock, he thought, or maybe I adapt to stressful situations incredibly well. Either way, he didn't feel at all panicky. It was as if he'd forgotten how to be afraid. Instead he looked coolly all the way around the room, then up at the domed ceiling. There were no lights that he could see, and yet the surfaces around him were perfectly visible. This was indeed a very strange situation in which he'd found himself.

And there was still that deep, impenetrable silence. Just to make sure that his ears hadn't stopped working, Edsel spoke. ‘All right, Grizzler, where are you?' he said. The sound of his voice was loud within the cockpit, and he allowed himself a moment of relief. At least he wasn't deaf.

He reached for the latch to open the dome, but his hand paused in midair as an awful thought suddenly came to him. What if there was no air out in that grey room? What if it was a vacuum out there, and opening the lid of his Egg would cause him to be suffocated in an instant? And again he asked himself, in his head this time: Where
am
I?

Finally, Edsel Grizzler was beginning to remember how to panic. He was starting to think that as boring as it was, the front yard of his house in that dreary suburb in West Malaise would be a welcome sight right now, even with the big blue butterfly. So he reached out, grabbed the joystick and wiggled, pretty hard. Again he wiggled it. Then he pushed the green button, four, five, six times.

Nothing happened. Nothing changed. He grabbed the plug and wrenched it out of its socket. Nothing. He jammed it back in, and tried the joystick again. More nothing. The silence, the greyness of the room, everything was exactly the same, and Edsel was
really
starting to recall what panic was all about.

‘So this is great,' he said aloud.
‘Now
what do I do?'

‘Await instructions,' said a man's voice, slightly stilted and metallic, echoing deep inside Edsel's ears.

‘Who said that?'

‘Should I show myself?' the voice asked.

‘Yeah, that would be good, I … I guess …' replied Edsel, whose sense of panic was quickly turning into complete confusion. ‘If it's no trouble.'

‘Very well, Armandine, comma, Robert,' the voice said. ‘Please wait while I assume a less alarming form.'

‘Okay,' said Edsel, whose emotions had just done a U-turn and were heading back towards panic. But before he had a chance to even wonder who Armandine, comma, Robert might be, there was a brief whining sound directly in front of him, high and piercing like a dentist's drill. And suddenly, without a flicker or a flash or anything else, a slim figure stood before the Egg. It was wearing a tight-fitting shiny silver suit that covered every inch, including its head and flat, featureless face.

‘So Hoagy didn't make up the silver man,' Edsel murmured.

‘If by Hoagy you mean Wendl, comma, Hogarth, you are correct. He didn't “make up” any silver man, as you put it.'

Edsel blinked, hard.

‘You seem to be having difficulty believing your eyes, Armandine, comma, Robert,' said the voice.

‘Uh … hi,' Edsel said. ‘But I'm not whoever … that is. I'm Edsel Grizzler.'

‘Very good,' the voice said. Then the figure held out one hand and pointed at the Egg, and with its usual hiss, the plexiglass dome began to lift, all by itself.

With horror, Edsel realised that he'd forgotten to take a deep breath. If there was a vacuum out there beyond the Egg, he was pretty much done for. He imagined his eyes being sucked from their sockets, his mouth gowping for air …

He held his breath as the dome opened fully and clicked into its vertical position above him. He wondered if he could somehow get the dome to come back down, preferably before he ran out of breath.

‘What you're doing won't make any difference,' the voice said. ‘You'll have to breathe eventually.'

His lungs were beginning to ache, and he closed his eyes, concentrating on not taking a breath. But finally he accepted that he couldn't hold it any longer, and let it out, before sucking in two more huge lungfuls of whatever was out there.

To his enormous relief, he found that he could breathe normally.

‘It's air!' he said.

‘Yes, we have what you call “air”, although we've added a fraction less of some of the inert gases,' the voice replied. ‘Would you like to get down?'

Edsel climbed down, and stood rather nervously beside the Egg, quite close, as if it could protect him in some way.

‘There's no need to be anxious,' the voice said. ‘I'm your friend.'

‘Yes, whatever,' said Edsel, whose original shock and confusion had changed yet again, and had now evolved into deep suspicion. ‘Can you prove that you're my friend? I mean, I've never met you before – I think – so how can you be my friend?'

‘In time you'll see that I don't mean you any harm, Armandine, comma, Robert.'

‘I told you before, I'm not Armandine, comma, Robert,' Edsel protested. ‘I'm Edsel Grizzler. Or Grizzler, comma, Edsel.'

There was a slight pause. Then the voice said, ‘Our tests confirm that you are last name Armandine, first name Robert.'

‘Tests? What tests?'

The voice went on. ‘Perhaps you're wrong when you call yourself Edsel Grizzler. The previous two certainly weren't.'

‘No, they were Kenny Sampson and Hoagy Wendl. Or Sampson, comma, Kenny and Wendl, comma, Hoagy. I guess,' Edsel added.

‘Yes, it appears they came here by mistake. Their reactions were regrettable,' said the figure. ‘They weren't meant to be here.'

‘But I am?'

‘Of course. You're perfect. And the confusion over your name is completely understandable.'

‘I'm glad
someone
understands it,' Edsel muttered.

‘My tonal detectors show that you're using sarcasm,' said the figure. ‘Please don't. It simply serves to confuse matters.'

‘No kidding,' Edsel replied. ‘Hey, am I dreaming?'

‘No.'

‘Unconscious?'

‘No.'

‘Dead?'

‘You're not dead.'

‘In that case, can you tell me where I am, why I'm here, and how I can get back to where I came from? Please?'

‘You want to return?'

‘Well yes, of course I want to return! I want to go home! I'm supposed to be grounded. My parents will kill me if they know I've … come here.'

‘Allow me to answer your questions in the order that you asked them,' said the silver figure. ‘First, you're in Verdada.'

‘Verdada? And where is that, exactly?'

‘Naturally it's here, exactly. You're in Verdada, so Verdada is here. Exactly.'

‘I see,' said Edsel.

‘No, you don't,' replied the figure, quite correctly. ‘Second, you're here to aid us in our main objective, which is to return all Lost Things to their rightful places.'

‘Lost things like me,' Edsel said crossly.

‘You will revisit that thought,' the voice said. ‘And third, you can choose to return to what you call “Home” at any time.'

‘Good. Then I want to go home,' Edsel said.

‘Very well.'

‘So can I go now?' Edsel asked, taking a step towards the Egg.

‘No.'

‘But you said—'

‘I said that you could
choose
to return Home at any time,' the figure corrected him. ‘And you have just chosen to do so. But you can't actually go just yet.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because you don't know what it is you've chosen.' And before Edsel had a chance to argue, the figure turned its back and pointed towards the curved wall. As it did so, an opening simply and silently appeared in the wall. ‘Follow me.'

‘Wait – why should I? I don't even know your name,' Edsel said, remembering the Stranger Danger brochure his mother had once left lying on his pillow.

‘If my name is so important, you can call me Man.'

‘Okay,' said Edsel, who, having worked through fear, panic, bewilderment, confusion and anger, had finally settled on blank acceptance. Whatever this was all about, he seemed to have little choice but to see it through.

‘Do my facial features frighten you?' Man asked.

‘You don't have any facial features,' Edsel replied. ‘And yeah, it's a bit weird, your face being all blank. I know it frightened Hoagy.'

‘If I showed you what I really looked like, I think it might frighten you more,' Man said. ‘But you have to trust me.'

‘Why do I
have to
trust you?' Edsel said. ‘Who says?'

‘Because right now, I'm all you've got. Please come this way – I'd like to show you something. You'll feel better after this. I promise.'

‘Where are you taking me?'

‘You are about to enter Verdada.'

E
dsel followed Man through the doorway into a long, grey, windowless corridor. It was brightly lit, but like the dome room, there were no lights to be seen. The corridor was simply bright. Featureless and bright.

Edsel turned and looked back. The doorway through which they'd come had disappeared. In its place was a smooth, silver-grey wall, and he suppressed the feeling of panic once more. It seemed as if his choices were rather limited anyway, so he did as he'd been told, and followed Man.

They walked silently along the passageway for a couple of minutes or so, then turned a right-hand bend and kept walking. After two more bends, one left, one right – Edsel was trying to keep track in case he needed to stage a future escape – they came, at last, to a dead end. A dead, grey, end. Man stopped and turned to face Edsel. ‘You're wondering where we are now.'

Edsel simply nodded.

‘Well, what you're about to see might alarm you, but we don't mean it to.'

‘Where are you taking me?' Edsel asked. ‘And please don't say … whatever it's called. That's not what I mean. I want to
really
know where we are, not just the name of the place.'

Without reply, Man turned and pointed at the corridor's dead end and, just as the wall of the round dome room had done, it parted into a doorway, opening without a sound. Through it, Edsel saw the first natural colour he'd seen since he'd left his front garden. And that colour was a sky-blue so vibrant that it almost looked artificial.

‘Follow me,' Man said.

With no other choices, Edsel followed the silvery figure out into the light and the brightness, and into a large glass tube, high above the ground, with a walkway along the bottom of it. He blinked in the sudden sunlight. Overhead, one or two wispy clouds drifted distractedly across the wide sky, and floating in front of the clouds was a red and yellow kite, with a long, fluttering tail.

The scene below the tube and walkway reminded Edsel of a place he'd seen on one of his dad's travel programs, in a city on the other side of the world. It was a park, with thick, lush grass, neat, meandering paths, and flowerbeds punctuating the scene with bright colour. Kids were out there, some sitting on benches, some playing soccer, others walking or simply lying on the grass chatting, reading, dozing in the shade.

On the far side of the park, one of the neat gravel paths led into a forest, but it wasn't a dark, scary forest with threats of beasts and monsters, but a place of mysteriously happy shadows and enticing spaces, and Edsel felt a thought of fairies pressing on the side of his mind. ‘It's like one of those forests from a fairy tale,' he murmured.

‘Well, fairies might well exist,' said Man's voice, deep in Edsel's ears.

‘Do they?'

‘I can't tell you everything. Some things you have to discover for yourself. Follow me – there's more to see.'

They continued along the walkway until they reached another grey door. When it opened and they stepped through, Edsel saw that they were in a glass elevator. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. The room below them was as big as a football stadium, maybe even two, and divided into sections by glass walls, like the partitions in an enormous office. The entire place was bordered with large windows that looked across the park.

Each of these cubicles contained a handful of orange crates, with a corresponding number of children, who seemed to be taking smaller boxes out of the crates, opening and inspecting them, then placing them on a conveyor that ran through the middle of each cubicle.

Edsel peered down at the scene, his brow knotted with confusion. ‘Is this some kind of factory?' he asked.

‘No, it's not a factory.'

‘Then what is it? What is …'

‘Verdada is the place of Lost Things.'

‘Look, Man, I think I might be—'

‘You're not dreaming. It's very real.'

‘Did Hoagy get this far?' Edsel asked. ‘Did he see this?'

‘Wendl, comma, Hogarth didn't so much as disembark from the conveyance in which you arrived,' Man explained. ‘He wasn't meant to be here, and was returned without fuss. He wasn't right for Verdada. Neither was Sampson, comma, Kenneth. So they each returned, relatively unharmed.'

‘Hang on, you're using
their
real names, so why do you keep calling me something I'm not?'

‘In Verdada we only ever use real names.'

‘So your name really is Man?' Edsel asked.

‘That's different.'

‘Really? I don't see how.' Edsel turned away to look down once more on the bustling room. According to Man it wasn't a factory, but was it a market, or a huge warehouse? So busy, so strange. He closed his eyes and pinched his forearm, hard. Maybe he'd wake up, back in his bed in West Malaise.

But when he reopened his eyes, he was still looking down on the same airy room, with the children working away in their cubicles full of …

‘Impressive, isn't it?' said a new voice, and Edsel spun around in alarm.

The figure in the silver suit was gone, and in its place was another man, slim and of average height, with a kind, neatly bearded face that could have been twenty years old, or fifty. His greying hair was cut short, he wore a sharply cut charcoal grey suit, a white shirt and a tie that matched the vibrant blue of the sky beyond the glass roof. He reminded Edsel of a model from a toothpaste commercial, or from a billboard advertising luxury cars.

‘Wait – who are you?' Edsel demanded, backing away. ‘And where's Man?

‘I'm sorry to sneak up on you like that. You can call me Richard. And Man has gone, for now. You'll see him again. But for now, his job was to welcome you.'

‘Really? Because he's kind of – don't take this the wrong way – weird.'

Richard smiled. ‘Yes, he takes his job very seriously. Now to the subject at hand.' He turned towards the enormous hall, and the bustle of activity down in the cubicles. ‘This is where it all happens.'

‘Where what happens, exactly? What are they doing down there?'

‘It's quite simple, really. When items are lost, they come here.'

‘Items? What kinds of items?'

‘All kinds.' Richard pointed at different rooms as he gave examples. ‘Books down here, as you see, stationery there – pens, pencil sharpeners, things like that. Socks over there, caps and hats in that one, CDs and DVDs in another, keys, jewellery, Lego in that large room to your right. And the room in the corner is golf balls, which is one of our busiest divisions.'

‘And that one?' Edsel asked, pointing at a small cubicle far to the right, where three children were bent over tables that were scattered with colourful fragments.

Richard nodded. ‘Ah yes, B-24 is an interesting room. Jigsaw pieces. Not complete jigsaws – just the missing pieces. Complete jigsaws are handled elsewhere.'

‘Got you,' said Edsel, who didn't in fact get much at all. ‘My mum lost a pair of nail scissors the other day. Would they be—'

‘Toiletries division just down there,' Richard said, pointing. ‘Nail scissors, eyebrow tweezers, clippers—'

‘Lipsticks?'

Richard shook his head. ‘Cosmetics have an entire division to themselves.'

‘Right,' said Edsel. ‘But I still don't understand why I'm here.'

‘The simple answer is that you belong here,' Richard replied. ‘You belong in Verdada.'

‘But I'm not lost.'

‘Aren't you? What makes you so sure?'

Edsel thought about this. ‘Well I suppose I don't know where I am, exactly, but that's not what you mean, is it?'

Richard shook his head. ‘Your task is simple, your time here precious. They all say so.'

Edsel felt a sick kind of feeling growing around his belly-button region.
‘Who
says so?' he asked, rather feebly.

‘The children. They love it here.'

‘The children? You mean those kids, down there?'

‘Yes. They're hard workers, aren't they? But they do love it.'

Edsel shook his head. He wondered for a moment if his ears were playing tricks on him. ‘I'm sorry? What are you talking about, “working hard”? Are those kids actually
working
down there?'

‘In a sense,' Richard replied. ‘But in another sense they're not.'

‘Sorry, but you'll have to explain a bit better than that,' Edsel said. ‘It looks to me like they're working, and that's child slave—'

‘It's true that they're working, but to them it doesn't feel like work. And they don't mind.'

‘Really? Why not? Do they even get paid?'

‘Oh, they're very well compensated, as you'll see. They work for an hour or two, five days a week. Whatever is left over in each day, plus two weekend days a week, is theirs to enjoy. We make it worth your while here in Verdada.'

‘What do they do with their time off?'

‘Whatever they like. Games, sports, playing, talking, sleeping, reading. Computer games, if that's what you like. Verdada is a wondrous place, with every good experience you can imagine. No waiting, no time limits, no expense. Except a little bit of work, five mornings a week. And you'd hardly even call it work.' Now Richard lowered his voice, as if he was telling Edsel a great or scandalous secret. ‘But do you know the best thing of all? There are no grownups to tell you what to do.' As he said this, Richard was examining Edsel's face, perhaps watching for some kind of reaction. ‘You seem unsure of how you fit into all this.'

‘No kidding,' Edsel replied. ‘You're talking about children working and days off, but … but I'm still confused. Or asleep.'

‘You're not asleep.' Richard reached out one finger and pressed the single button on the wall of the elevator, and with a quiet murmur from somewhere under them, they began to sink slowly towards the floor of the enormous room.

As they descended, Edsel watched the three children in the cubicle nearest the elevator. They were sorting through piles of small boxes, chatting and laughing as they worked. Each box had a small barcode on its lid, and the kids would scan the barcode with a small reader, about the size of a mobile phone, read the screen, lift the lid of the box to check inside, then enter something into the reader via its touchscreen, before placing the box on the conveyor.

‘Passports,' Richard said. ‘It's amazing how often they get lost. You'd think people would take more care. Anyone who's tried to get a replacement passport in Peshawar makes sure it never happens again, I can tell you. Pakistan,' he added, just as Edsel was about to ask where Peshawar is.

They finally reached the floor, the elevator door opened, and Richard led Edsel out into the long corridor which ran between the smaller rooms they'd seen from high above. There were dozens, perhaps even hundreds of the cubicles lining both sides of the passageway, each of them labelled, and long corridors led off the main, central one. For some reason Edsel had expected it to be silent down here, but it wasn't. He could hear happy music, and sounds of laughter and fun as the children worked. And there wasn't an adult in sight. Maybe Richard was right. Maybe it wasn't really work at all.

‘This is so weird,' he said under his breath.

‘Only until you get used to it.'

A young boy was walking along the corridor towards them, and he looked up at Richard and grinned. ‘Hi, Richard!'

‘Lincoln! You look well. Are you having a good day?'

‘Yeah! I'm in computer games today.'

‘Good for you. Nice kid, that one,' Richard said to Edsel. ‘What am I saying – they're
all
nice kids!'

‘And did they all come here the same way I did? Did they all arrive in Eggs as well?'

Richard smiled. ‘Like chickens? No, everyone's journey is unique.'

‘So how did they come here? By bus?'

Richard smiled. ‘I like your cheeky wit, Robert. But no, not by bus. How the others came to be here is part of their story, not yours. Please, let's carry on – the Hub is along this way. That's where I'll show you a little more about your time at Verdada. We don't believe in nasty surprises, you see.'

You could have fooled me, Edsel thought.

Richard set out along the corridor, leading the way, but he stopped after a couple of steps. Without turning around, he said, ‘You're not following me, Robert.'

‘No,' replied Edsel with a shake of his head. ‘No, I'm not, because I want to go home. I'm serious this time.'

‘As Man no doubt explained, you can't
actually
return to your so-called “Home” until you have all the facts. Which is to say, until you've been to the Hub.'

‘Why not?' Edsel asked.

‘Because an uninformed decision isn't really a decision at all.'

‘What if I've just decided that I've seen enough, and I don't want to stay?'