Xerox print test

I looked down from the great height of the tree and saw the clumsy sprawl of tents, shacks and people. Ahead, there was the flat and endless horizon. My hand clutched another branch and I heaved myself up. Sweat ran from my face. I gripped harder so that I wouldn’t slip; I pulled myself up with a strength I should not have had. I hoped from a place in my heart I no longer knew existed.

I lifted my foot and rested it on another knobby protrusion, and pushed up to the next branch, and the next. I looked down over my shoulder. Gideon was climbing up behind me, one careful branch at a time.

We were far from the ground, and for an instant my fear of heights took hold of me, challenging my determination. I paused and closed my eyes. I took a deep breath and expelled it gently. I counted backwards from ten, filtering away my doubt, and then I opened my eyes and continued up, promising myself I would not look down. It was all behind me, and I would not fall back. Not this time.

Finally, I was at the top.

I stopped and watched as Gideon made his way to where I was crouching: near the mouth of the entrance into the high side of the vessel. I inched along the large branch that bridged the gap to the entrance and slid onto its iron grate. The wind lashed across us, one cold wave after the other. Gideon followed closely behind me.

We walked along the clanging iron grate until we reached a black wall. In the centre of the wall was a door standing slightly ajar, a faint glimmer of light shining through the gap. I reached for the handle and pulled it slowly open.

A room. A familiar room.

There was a grey box, rumbling a familiar sound, innumerable white wires extending to a chair in the centre of the room. The chair was turned away from us, but I could make out the shape of someone sitting in it, white wires attached to a shadowy head. Beyond the chair was a long empty table, hidden in the shadows.

I walked forward slowly, careful not to alarm the motionless figure in the chair.

“Andy,” I said softly. I took another step forward. No response. I turned to inspect the grey box that groaned on the side of the room. It was similar to the one we’d had on the beach—the mind reader that had drained us of our thoughts. I ran my hand over the box and saw a number of buttons: Start. Cancel. a4. a3. a2. Multiple copies.

I lifted the thin plastic lid that covered the top of the box. Sheets of paper sat in a tray to the side. I grabbed a sheet and read: fx443—XEROX PRINT TEST (0076). fx443—XEROX PRINT TEST (0077). fx443—XEROX PRINT TEST (0078).

I dropped the pages and edged towards the chair, then circled until I was facing the person. Light brown hair. Darkly tanned skin. One missing red shoe.

It was him. Andy. My son. My boy. My boy.

I slid hurriedly down on my knees in front of him and laid my hand on his thin, cold hands. He looked through me, gazing into nothingness.

I took him by the shoulders and shook him gently.

Nothing.

I stroked his face, tapped him on the cheeks. “Andy? Wake up, big guy. Jesus, what did they do to you?”

Sluggishly and without blinking, Andy turned his head to face me.

“That’s right,” I said. “That’s right, kiddo. It’s me. Your father. Blink. Blink your eyes.”

Andy did as I told him. He blinked once, mechanically, and paused before blinking once more.

“It’s me,” I said reassuringly. “It’s me. I’m here. I’ve come to get you.”

Gideon approached the chair and Andy turned his gaze on him, studied him. His eyes widened. He would not turn back to me, no matter how much I coaxed him, no matter how tightly I held his hand.

“Dad?” Andy murmured.

Gideon said nothing. He did not move.

Andy began to breathe deeply, emotion finally welling up within.

I didn’t understand.

Andy grabbed the wires attached to his head and plucked them from their plugs. His eyes did not stray from the tall man with the long dreadlocks—the friend who had come all the way with me. The friend I had encountered in the abandoned town—an exceedingly improbable coincidence—I squashed the thought.

I released Andy’s hand as the young man grabbed the side of the chair and got to his feet.

“You came,” Andy said to Gideon. “You came for me.” He threw himself into Gideon, wrapping his arms around him, clutching him firmly.

I rose from my knees.

And as Gideon’s arms tentatively lifted from their sides and wrapped around Andy, I knew … I knew an excruciating truth. My heart clenched and I struggled to breathe.

It can’t be. No, it cannot be …

I waited for something to confirm that Andy was muddled, projecting on Gideon in some way, but the confirmation didn’t come.

And Gideon—his expression was changing too. The look of bafflement was lessening, replaced by something else. Painful awareness. Relief. Joy.

I edged back, away from the chair—away from Gideon and Andy, embracing each other as I had hoped to be embraced. I tried to accept what I was witnessing. The longer they held each other the more obvious it all became.

The room began to spin. Everything blurred. My face was hot, my arms and legs were numb, and then there was a heaviness—an aching heaviness I had felt only once before, a long time ago, in another place, as another person.

A wave of memories washed over me like the water in the room in my dream.