The Living (24 page)

Clown smiles and sits down next to her on the ground. He turns over the multi-coloured leaves with his hand in its
brilliant
yellow glove. He catches an earthworm, lifts it to his face and examines it, squeezing it between his thumb and index finger.

The worm wriggles and coils in uneven rings.

He opens his fingers; the worm falls into the autumn leaves. It lies there motionless for a few seconds, pretending to be
unliving
, then burrows in tentatively.

The Servant left suddenly – rudely, without even saying
goodbye
– and she was left alone. She tucked in her tail and crawled into the den. She did not want to finish the
act
anymore.

She wanted to summon the self-righteous ghost from her memory; tear his dead throat to shreds with her claws and fangs – because he lied… Because he left me with a good-for-nothing, defective formula.

She curled up in a ball and whimpered gently, through her nostrils.

She heard Zero’s voice, distant and pathetic, coming from first layer:

‘Are you happy…? Tell me, are you happy here with me…?’

As he walked past the Diver’s see-through blue cell, Zero stopped. The Diver was sitting in his wonder-chair, facing the door. Artificial seaweed twisted together behind his back, forming an available-brown web. Zero always thought that the Diver, like Cracker had once, reminded him of a spider – a big, immobile spider, lurking in the shadow of his devious trap awaiting his prey – and his cell was like the solitary
confinement
chamber in the Special Unit… But he always dismissed this thought. You couldn’t leave Special Unit solitary, but here the door was open. True, the Diver still could not make use of his freedom, get up and leave…
He just doesn’t want to,
the Wise One quickly corrected himself.
He considers external movement unnecessary…

The Servant had explained once that he and his father had specifically asked the designers to do up the cell as an ‘
underwater
world’. It is symbolic: the Diver has turned his back on everything external and transitory and immersed himself in the
depths
that are inaccessible to all livings (except the eight moderators) so that from there, in the deepest layer, he can look at the world with an unclouded, all-seeing eye, publishing wise decrees and giving the other members of the Council of Eight instructions when they come down to him for advice. At least, that’s how it used to be.

That’s how it was until the Diver gave the moderators his final piece of advice…

…Exactly a month ago, on the very day when Zero was delivered to the Residence (he did not know where they were taking him or what for, but he was sure that he was going to be executed), the Servant of Order read him the words of the Wise One’s Final Decree:

‘My friends, I am desperately tired. My time has come: I want to
drown
. I am leaving worldly affairs behind and
immersing
myself forever in thirteenth layer. You will not be able to visit me there, because no living has ever returned from there. The place of the Wise One should not lie empty, so for that reason you should replace me immediately, but do not seek my replacement amongst my kind. In these difficult days of ours, when the
threat
comes from the outside, it is not a Diver who should provide leadership. Not a Diver, but someone who is very familiar with first layer, someone who knows their way around outside as well as I do in the depths. That is why you should make Zero the Wise One. He sees that which you who have lived so many lives do not see. He will give you wisdom, and it will be the wisdom of a child.’

The Council passed the Diver’s decision, although – for the first time ever – not unanimously. Five voted. Three ‘for’, two ‘against’.

‘You got lucky, you son of a bitch,’ the Servant had said then, as he brought him into the Residence. ‘One more vote against and I wouldn’t have been taking you here, but for a pause. Now take a look at this…’ From under his clothes the Servant pulled out a sheaf of papers covered in large round
handwriting
. ‘Recognise these?’

‘Yes. They’re my letters to myself.’

‘We’re going to set up a cell for you at Renaissance Bank,’ the Servant said. ‘We will put your diary in there, the one you left behind in the House of Correction. And we’ll put these letters of yours in there too. All of them except…’ – the Servant pulled a piece of paper from the pile – ‘…except this one. “The Miracle”.’ He shook the paper in the air irritatedly, like it was a slimy pet and it was attempting to wriggle free from his fingers. ‘“…I died and rose again, in accordance with a precise plan. In accordance with my friend Cracker…” We’re going to destroy this letter of yours, you and me. Too many details,
explanations… There’s no need for them. We’ll just content ourselves with the “miracle”. You died and rose again. Full stop.’

The Servant tore the letter up into tiny pieces. To Zero the sound of ripping paper seemed deafening.

‘You died and rose again to take up the high office of the Wise One. Repeat after me.’

‘I died and rose again to take up the high office of the Wise One,’ Zero responded obediently, not hearing his own voice. The words dropped from his lips like empty, rustling husks. There was no meaning in them. There was nothing in them.

Zero thought that from the outside the Residence seemed horribly reminiscent of the Farm.

The same four-metre concrete fence. The same blue glow from the electromagnetic barrier. But there, beyond the fence, things were completely different. It did not smell of fear there, but jasmine, mint and citrus fruits from the Available Garden. The main building in the Residence – an opulent palace of
coloured
stone, glass and wood – was drowning in flowers.

This building was like the castle from his childhood dreams. The castle which he had always wanted to build for Hanna… Zero smiled and followed the Servant inside. Snatches of phrases swirled and rattled in his head like a confused whirlwind – …
you will be held captive, but the Servant will elevate you…

He will give you the wisdom of a child… the ray has revealed your great future
… – they swirled and swirled until only one was left.
You died and rose again, repeat. You died and rose again, repeat. You died and rose again, repeat…

…When he left his post as the Wise One, the Diver left his cell behind. His successor was given apartments next it, and for thirty whole days, as he walked past it down the corridor, Zero
would stop to stare at the still, serene face of his predecessor. Today, on the day when he was presenting his first piece of legislation and his report on the ‘dissident problem’, the Wise One stood in front of the cell for an especially long time. The Diver sat there, slumped feebly to one side; his slender,
dried-out
neck could not support the weight of his head.

Zero pressed his forehead against the cold blue glass.

‘There is no death, Diver,’ he whispered. ‘I know that you can hear me. You are like Cracker. You hold all layers, you just don’t want to waste your energy… Today is a special day. My first conference. Before it begins I would like to say… I would like to thank you for all you have done for me. Wasn’t it you who sent me that anonymous letter? I know it was you. I remember it off by heart. “Don’t believe the lies. The Leo-Lot ray has revealed your great future. But they have taken away your future, they destroyed the discovery, they forced the scientists to keep silent, just so you would remain a nobody. So that you might not become he who you must be, for the greater glory of the Living…” Glap, you helped me get my future back! What do you expect from me now? What do you think my service to the Living can be? What should I say today to the members of the Council? I hope I will do everything right, and you’ll never have to regret your decision… You know, I didn’t sleep all night. I was writing the First Speech for my presentation… Why don’t I read it to you now? It’s short, smin, it won’t take a lot of your time…’

The Wise One looked at the Diver’s half-open rolled eyes, and it seemed to him as if the narrow stripes of the pupils flashed slightly. That must mean he was still interested. The Wise One cleared his throat and started talking quietly, almost touching the glass with his lips; his words sprawled over the blue wall of the cell in warm, smoky patches:

‘Eighth, the Wise One, welcomes all members of the Council. Unfortunately, I am still not connected to
socio
and must
address you in first layer; however, I hope that by the time of the next session this problem will have been resolved… My friends! I am grateful for the trust you have shown me. And, smin, I’ll do everything in my power to justify it. However terrible the mistakes I’ve made are, I swear, that all my short life I have dreamed of becoming a fully fledged part of the Living. Now my dream is destined to come true. Today, friends, I will share with you my thoughts regarding the “dissident problem”. I’m not going to abuse your attention and will get straight down to business. To solve any problem you must first of all establish the reason for its emergence. To cure a patient, you must diagnose the illness and not just try and nullify the symptoms. I am sure that the appearance of the Dissidents is only a symptom of the fact that the Living is suffering. So what is the cause of this “illness”? My friends! I have been thinking about this every day for the thirty days I have spent within the hospitable walls of the Residence. I had probably thought about this before – subconsciously, instinctively – in my previous life, before I was resurrected. In the House of Correction. And this is what I’ve realised: the Living is suffering…’