34

The commercial

Albert shared a tree-limb pattern that repeated and repeated until it was a tunnel that twisted like a white wormhole in a vast darkness. He sent thoughts of joy into the wormhole—little things that pleased him; like math, and Ma, and natural beauty, and Pearl.

“You’re doing a really good job, Albie,” I said quietly. I wanted to support him but not distract him. I wished the blue beam would kick in to amplify the bait. But even without the amplifier there came a subtle vibration and a change in the atmosphere.

“Do you feel that?” Brit asked. “Something is happening.”

When I looked out the window I could see the white light of the lasers flashing in the heart of the red mist, but the red stuff had stopped spewing from the rip, and now it just hovered. Slowly, slowly the mist began to reverse itself. It rolled in sluggish waves back toward the six posts. The woods seemed to blur with the sickening crawl of it, and I felt a little carsick watching.

Why weren’t the SMHRs using the amplifier? The mist was traveling backward—but very slowly.

We were startled when the little TV in the corner turned on; the triad must have done it remotely. The local news was showing one bad thing after another. Animals were acting crazy, just like poor Beau. People were lashing out for the dumbest reasons, starting fights with friends and family. There were altercations in restaurants and on trains because the other guy looked different—or for no reason at all. One messed-up boy shot his best friend and there were dozens of road-rage incidents. The red spiders were doing their worst; the infection had begun. “Oh, Brit!” I could feel the yucky energy scuttling around me but a wave of self-loathing reminded me to stay calm. I fashioned the icy wall and imagined the frozen wasteland. Calm and boring, I tried to tell myself.

“This is gross,” Brit said. “Why would the Commodore want us to watch it?” She switched the channel and found a shot of Times Square, where the New Year’s throng had gathered to celebrate. But things were getting out of hand there, too; several fights had broken out and the crowd seemed agitated.

Suddenly the pink light was shining outside. Hopefully Albert could keep sending the bait of good energy. The bad stuff had to be distracted while I gave my speech.

“It’s the signal! Come on, Lars, let’s go. Brit, would you stay with Albie? I’ll leave the door open.”

Lars and I tromped out into the snow. I could see Agent Saunders standing very still over by the compost. “You okay, Saunders?”

He gave me a sober thumbs-up. “Good luck, kid.”

“Hey Lars, what’s that tune they always play on New Year’s—‘Old Sing-Sang’?”

“It’s called ‘Auld Lang Syne,’” he corrected. “It’s a song about the good old days.”

“Can you play it?”

“I can figure it out.”

“Try playing it really slow, and sort of sad.”

He nodded and began to search for the notes. It didn’t take him long before he could play the tune, and he played it amazingly well.

With Lars plinking “Auld Lang Syne” on the guitar, and with the pale, pink light shining, I gathered myself to speak.

“Okay.” I coughed once. “Lars, do you feel the spiders?”

“No. They’re still distracted.” He gave me the thumbs-up.

I was wasting time. I just had to dive in.

“Happy New Year, Earth,” I said in a serious voice. “Where I live it’s snowy and it’s as pretty as it can be. Maybe in your town there’s snow on the ground, or maybe it’s raining and the air is getting all cleaned up. Maybe it’s warm and there’s a nice, balmy breeze. It could be night or it could be day, but here on Earth, it’s home.”

“Mary, you’re on TV!” Brit shouted from inside the garage.

I could see her pointing at the little TV while Albert concentrated, not moving a muscle. Good boy, I thought. But I had to concentrate, too. How could I possibly say the right thing—who did I think I was?

Sister and daughter and friend. Good and nice. The positive memo appeared with a warm glow that felt like home. Albert was doing his job and still looking out for me. I shifted my feet and looked down at my hands. I was startled to see the ten different colors of polish on my nails. I thought of Brit and me and the dorky fun we had and of other kids who just wanted to be kids. My colorful nails made me feel a lot better. I checked with Lars and he nodded. I could do this. I had to do this.

I cleared my throat and continued. “At my house I have my Ma and my Meemaw, and my little brother. Ma is a hard worker and she takes life as it comes. Mostly she sees the good in people, and she doesn’t judge—well, except for my dad, who died. I think she’s mad at him because he left her alone. But she’s not really alone. She’s got lots of love around her.

“My Meemaw is a bit prickly but she’s willing to learn new lessons even though she’s older. She’s got our backs and we love her for that—for being strong and fierce.

“My best friend who I go to school with is so loyal and smart, and she’s good to me, even though she’s way smarter than I am. But she is never a know-it-all and she believes in me. So I love her lots.

“Her big brother is playing the guitar right now, and he is so good that the song is almost breaking my heart. He’s secretly really smart even though he hides it to be tough and strong, and he’s good at car engines and the guitar and I wish he were my big brother because he’s so awesome.”

Lars was delicately picking the tune—for auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne—

“My own brother is like the smartest, most unique-est kid in the whole world. All my life since he was born, he’s been sharing his good and beautiful thoughts with me. He made me what I am today—which is happy. And that’s why I’m talking to you right now, to remind you of the happiness of small things—”

Albert interrupted my dialogue with an urgent memo. One laser is offline. With that, the pink light turned off and I was standing alone in the darkness.