closed his account. Daed, presumably.
He stared at the panel. He said, aloud, ‘Hey, Rick, you didn’t want to run the Maze in this state, anyway, did you? What’s the big deal? It’s just a glitch.’ His voice sounded reedy, like a bad-quality recording. ‘Bound to be. An error. Isn’t it.’
No one answered.
They’d closed his account .
He shut his eyes. He felt sick and unreal. For no reason he thought of the skull Daed had on a shelf in his office: empty eyes and unchanging grimace, balanced on a pile of dusty old flatgames. Rick knew it must have been a person, once, but it had never seemed real. It was only now, standing in front of the locked tanks, that he thought he might be starting to understand.
Daed. The thought went straight to his heart, sending a shot of heat through his veins. He didn’t know if it was anger or something else; but in any case it helped him to move.
OK. It was too far to the lifts; he went up the emergency steps. Now that he had somewhere to go it was easier to ignore the pain. He found himself almost on all fours, helping himself up the stairs with his hands, but the floor felt reassuringly solid. He heard his own breathing and he was shocked — a little bit — at how much he sounded like an old man.
He said to himself, Daed. Daed will be in his office. He can’t do this to me. He’s my —
Whatever he is. He can’t — he won’t —
It’s going to be OK, Rick thought. I trust Daed. It’s going to be OK.
And this time he believed it.
Chapter 8
The door to Daed’s office was closed and Rick didn’t even stop to take a breath before he slapped the comms panel so hard he felt the shock resonate all the way up to his shoulder and between his teeth. He said, ‘Let me in. Let me in. I need to talk to you.’
A ripple of petrol-lustre blue went over the screen: the panel was working, but no one was answering. He said, ‘Daed. Please. Please, come on, I need to talk to you. Now .’
Nothing.
‘Please. Come on, Daed, I know you’re there, please, stop being such a —’ He caught himself. ‘Please. I’m sorry, OK, I’m sorry! But they’ve — you’ve — someone’s closed my account, and I just need to talk to you, for gods’ sake, please, please .’ He took a deep breath, waited. ‘Daed. Daed, come on.’ He was running out of self-control: he could feel it evaporating off his skin. Any second now he’d start crying. ‘Daed, please don’t do this to me. I —’ And there it went, his voice: cracking like glass in the rain. He swallowed. ‘I’m sorry, OK? I don’t know what to do. Daed, please don’t —’
The door slid open. A voice he didn’t recognise said, ‘All right, Rick, you can come in if you promise to shut up .’
He stumbled through. The light was silvery-blue, and the corners of everything glinted at him like eyes. He felt overwhelmingly sick. For a minute all he could do was grab hold of something and resist the urge to throw up again.
When the world was back to steady he opened his eyes. The voice said, ‘Sit down.’ Rick didn’t like obeying people he didn’t know, but he couldn’t deny that it was good advice. He let his knees go and there was a chair there, waiting for him. He was impressed, in spite of himself: whoever the voice was, they were as good as Daed.
He said, ‘Thanks.’
‘I thought I told you to shut up?’
Rick started to say, ‘I was being poli—’ and then his larynx cut out, because the voice was Daed. He blinked, because the face was almost as unrecognisable as the voice. It was only the two of them together that told him that it was Daed, standing there.
He was grey .
Rick knew he was staring, but he couldn’t stop. How could someone change so much in a day, in two days? He could already see the death’s head behind Daed’s face, just waiting for the rest to rot away. Only the eyes were the same: and now he knew exactly what was wrong with them. They were too old. They always had been.
He stared at the panel. He said, aloud, ‘Hey, Rick, you didn’t want to run the Maze in this state, anyway, did you? What’s the big deal? It’s just a glitch.’ His voice sounded reedy, like a bad-quality recording. ‘Bound to be. An error. Isn’t it.’
No one answered.
They’d closed his account .
He shut his eyes. He felt sick and unreal. For no reason he thought of the skull Daed had on a shelf in his office: empty eyes and unchanging grimace, balanced on a pile of dusty old flatgames. Rick knew it must have been a person, once, but it had never seemed real. It was only now, standing in front of the locked tanks, that he thought he might be starting to understand.
Daed. The thought went straight to his heart, sending a shot of heat through his veins. He didn’t know if it was anger or something else; but in any case it helped him to move.
OK. It was too far to the lifts; he went up the emergency steps. Now that he had somewhere to go it was easier to ignore the pain. He found himself almost on all fours, helping himself up the stairs with his hands, but the floor felt reassuringly solid. He heard his own breathing and he was shocked — a little bit — at how much he sounded like an old man.
He said to himself, Daed. Daed will be in his office. He can’t do this to me. He’s my —
Whatever he is. He can’t — he won’t —
It’s going to be OK, Rick thought. I trust Daed. It’s going to be OK.
And this time he believed it.
Chapter 8
The door to Daed’s office was closed and Rick didn’t even stop to take a breath before he slapped the comms panel so hard he felt the shock resonate all the way up to his shoulder and between his teeth. He said, ‘Let me in. Let me in. I need to talk to you.’
A ripple of petrol-lustre blue went over the screen: the panel was working, but no one was answering. He said, ‘Daed. Please. Please, come on, I need to talk to you. Now .’
Nothing.
‘Please. Come on, Daed, I know you’re there, please, stop being such a —’ He caught himself. ‘Please. I’m sorry, OK, I’m sorry! But they’ve — you’ve — someone’s closed my account, and I just need to talk to you, for gods’ sake, please, please .’ He took a deep breath, waited. ‘Daed. Daed, come on.’ He was running out of self-control: he could feel it evaporating off his skin. Any second now he’d start crying. ‘Daed, please don’t do this to me. I —’ And there it went, his voice: cracking like glass in the rain. He swallowed. ‘I’m sorry, OK? I don’t know what to do. Daed, please don’t —’
The door slid open. A voice he didn’t recognise said, ‘All right, Rick, you can come in if you promise to shut up .’
He stumbled through. The light was silvery-blue, and the corners of everything glinted at him like eyes. He felt overwhelmingly sick. For a minute all he could do was grab hold of something and resist the urge to throw up again.
When the world was back to steady he opened his eyes. The voice said, ‘Sit down.’ Rick didn’t like obeying people he didn’t know, but he couldn’t deny that it was good advice. He let his knees go and there was a chair there, waiting for him. He was impressed, in spite of himself: whoever the voice was, they were as good as Daed.
He said, ‘Thanks.’
‘I thought I told you to shut up?’
Rick started to say, ‘I was being poli—’ and then his larynx cut out, because the voice was Daed. He blinked, because the face was almost as unrecognisable as the voice. It was only the two of them together that told him that it was Daed, standing there.
He was grey .
Rick knew he was staring, but he couldn’t stop. How could someone change so much in a day, in two days? He could already see the death’s head behind Daed’s face, just waiting for the rest to rot away. Only the eyes were the same: and now he knew exactly what was wrong with them. They were too old. They always had been.
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