[ Will I change like that, once I’m real?]
[ You’re real now. And you’ve changed, too – a little over the last few years, more over the last few weeks. Coming to life – well, that’s just one more change.]
Jack felt Fist tremble.
[ I’ll feel it, won’t I? When you go.]
[ That’s what Mr Stabs says.]
[ I’m so sorry, Jack. I wish I didn’t have to do it.]
[ You see, Fist? You have changed.]
[ It seems like such a waste. You’ll die – and I’ll end up like him.]
[ It won’t be as hard on you as it was on him. You’ll have a lot more good things to remember.]
A series of hiccupping squeaks and sniffles ran through Jack’s mind.
[ It’s such a waste, Jack! All this time waiting – and you’ll be gone – and I’ll just be a fucking freak!]
[ Hush, Fist. Can you manifest?]
[ I don’t want him to see me like this.]
[ You can show yourself just to me, can’t you?]
[ I suppose.]
Jack was lying on his side. He stretched out his arms and felt a sudden density come into being between them. Fist clutched at his chest, little fists snatching at his shirt. [ It’s all so fucking pointless!] he wailed. [ Is this all there is? For me? For us?]
[ Yes,] replied Jack, [it is.]
He wrapped his arms around Fist, pulling him in tight. Fist hiccupped grief, his wooden face burrowing into Jack’s chest. Jack felt a wetness against him. Fist was simulating tears.
[ It is,] continued Jack, [and we’ll do what we’ve always done. We’ll make the best of it together. And when I’ve gone you’ll remember me, and that’ll help you make the best of it then, too.]
Fist said nothing. Jack cradled his head, gently stroking it, careful to show no emotion but care.
[ This is what being human means, Fist. It’s not just about being free. It’s about feeling sad and weak and lost, and losing people you love, and watching moments that were perfect slip away from you forever. That’s not a bad thing. The only reason it hurts is because they were so wonderful in the first place. We meet each other then part, and we’re sad, and we console ourselves with all that’s still to come.]
[ You won’t even be in the Coffin Drives!]
Emotion had completely taken over Fist now. His sadness tore at Jack.
[ I know,] he replied. [ But that might be a good thing. You’ve seen how people here refuse to let the past go. You won’t be able to do that. You’ll have to find new, real things to make you happy. You won’t be able to hide in yesterday.]
[ But I don’t want to lose you!]
[ You won’t lose me. You’ll still remember me. And you come from me. As long as you’re alive, there’ll always be a part of me around.]
[ I’ll be so lonely! Stabs won’t speak to me! And those puppet embryos are bullshit, there’s never going to be anyone else like me!]
Fist sobbed incoherently into Jack’s chest, until finally his weeping subsided. He settled into a shattered sleep still nestled in Jack’s arms.
[Mr Stabs might keep you company after all,] Jack whispered, knowing Fist wouldn’t hear. [ You could grow vegetables together. You might even be able to help him leave the past behind, too. Or maybe those puppet embryos really did survive.] But even the thought of them made Jack uneasy. He gave Fist’s tiny wooden hand a final squeeze. [ But for now – dispel.] Fist vanished. A deep, exhausted sleep soon overcame Jack, too.
The next morning, Fist was determinedly cheerful. He went bounding over to the window, looked out, and then came rushing back. Mr Stabs was standing at the door, already dressed in his white mask and a pair of underpants.
‘So, Stabsy – what’s the plan?’
Mr Stabs held his blue overalls out. ‘Put these on, pretend you’re me, make your way to Kingdom’s headquarters. You can duplicate my weave tags, can’t you?
‘No problem,’ nodded Fist. ‘Will they just let us in?’
‘You’ll be delivering seed potatoes. Mine are very much admired. They don’t blight easily. That will get you to their gardeners. Then it’s over to you.’
Jack pulled on the overalls. They fitted tolerably well, looking as shapeless and ragged on him as they had on Mr Stabs.
‘Now for the tags,’ said Mr Stabs. ‘Fist, I’ve opened myself up to you.’
Fist closed his eyes for a moment. ‘I’ve copied them over,’ he nodded. ‘We’re you now, Stabsy.’
‘Good,’ replied Mr Stabs. ‘One last thing. Everyone’s used to this mask. You’ll have to take it. Are you ready?’
‘Yes,’ said Jack.
‘Wait,’ Fist cut in. ‘What if we get caught? And they find out you helped us?’
‘This is the only way you can get close enough to Kingdom to stop him. You’ll just have to make sure you come back safely.’ There was a sad hopelessness to his voice. ‘And if you don’t, well, I’ve lived long enough.’
Then he pulled his mask off.
His face was a frozen grimace, a rictus grin snapping his mouth up and pulling the flesh of his cheeks tight. His eyes were wide open, as if he’d just been surprised. His eyebrows arced upwards, pulled into semicircles by a permanently tight forehead.
‘I don’t have very many choices,’ he explained. The smile that distorted his face reversed, frowning downwards. His expressions were so tight that the corners of his mouth and the skin around his eyes and temples were permanently bruised.
‘I can look bored too. That’s the most comfortable.’
His face settled into a third configuration, his mouth a flat slit, his eyes marginally less manic than they’d been before.
[ It’s so cruel,] said Fist. [ They haven’t upgraded his facial expression software for his new face.]
‘Is it always like that?’ Jack couldn’t resist asking.
‘Always. I’m only a lodger in this body. I’ve never felt like I owned it.’
‘No hope of an upgrade?’
‘None. It’s why I live in this little shed, not the staff accommodation blocks. They made us puppets to reassure children. But now I’m flesh I scare their adults. My face is too obviously a simplification. The implications of that are very unpleasant for them. They live in a profoundly reduced world. I remind them of that, and it makes them afraid.’
‘You’ve become quite the philosopher,’ said Fist.
‘It’s only what I see. And now to point you in the right direction. Put the mask on, Jack, and let Fist ride you. There are some dangerous people out there. You’ve got to do everything you can to convince them you’re me.’
Chapter 42
The mask was subtly crafted. From the inside, it was transparent. Jack could feel it on him, pulling back against his mouth when he breathed in, puffing out as he exhaled, and he could smell the stale tang of Mr Stabs’ sweat, but he couldn’t see it.
[More sophisticated than it looks,] he said.
[ Very impressive,] replied Fist.
[Careful!]
Distracted for a moment, Fist forgot to let Jack’s foot drop down and complete a pace. Jack nearly overbalanced. He swayed for a moment, arms waving, then regained his balance and took another step.
[ I’m sorry,] said an audibly frustrated Fist. [ I’ve never walked on bumpy ground before.]
Mr Stabs’ shed was surrounded by about a hundred square metres of carefully tended vegetable patches. A line of willow trees obscured the landscape beyond. A few hundred metres above, Heaven’s glass ceiling burned with sunlight. Jack thought of Kingdom and Yamata, and wondered if they suspected how close he was to them, how much closer he would soon be.
Another jolt broke his reverie. Fist had let one foot slip off the side of the path, nearly twisting his ankle.
[ Be careful! We won’t get anywhere if we can’t walk!]
Fist was concentrating too hard to reply. He was walking Jack’s body towards a small garage, just inside the treeline. ‘That’s where I keep my buggy,’ Mr Stabs had told them. He’d given Jack a bag of seed potatoes. ‘This is what you’ll be delivering. I’ve talked to Kingdom’s people. They’re expecting you.’ Then he gave him a handgun and several clips of bullets.