He rises, stepping away from the bird, giving it some space and peace. The city unfolds in front of him, the sky visibly darkening, fields of flickering lights rolling out toward Somerset’s distant hills. It’s near silent up here, Bristol’s constant drone battered away by high-rise winds, but Tyrone can’t hear it anyway, his skull reverberating to the spex’s conduction speakers, his head lost in his own music, his mind staring out across unexplored possibilities.
18. AFTER
When she wakes, on the broken mattress in the corner of College’s room, he’s nowhere to be seen. She’s alone, no company apart from the throb of bass through cracked windows, with the morning coffee craving that never leaves, even after all these years.
She sits for a few minutes, watching dust motes swirl like pixels in suspended sunlight. Self-doubt and regret. She could just stay, forget everything else. Make a life here, again. Start something new.
It sounds easy. But the ghosts will always be here, in the corners of the room. Out in the hallway. On the street, just beyond the window. They’re dancing now, sunny carnival vibes, and she knows from there it’s only a short time until the screaming and bleeding starts.
She pulls herself off the mattress, packs her bag quickly. Grabs the backpack College stuffed with spex for her last night, and heads out the door.
College is at the end of the street, on the corner of Ashley Road and the Croft, surrounded by kids. He’s handing out spex to anyone that passes. And there’s no shortage of anyones, a steady, thick stream of party people flooding in through the gates. She tries not to gaze too long into the crowds, knowing ghosts lurk.
He smiles as she approaches. “Ah. It lives.”
“You should have woken me.”
“Eh, you looked like you needed the sleep.”
“Yeah. I did. So, how’s your adoption rate?”
He laughs. “Pretty good. Gonna run out soon. Time to start scouring shops for more. Trying to get people to go home and look in their drawers, innit.”
“People are into it?”
“Yeah. Yeah, appears so. Taking a bit of explaining. People think I’m bullshitting, some crazy man. Until I make them put on a pair. Those old enough to remember seem a bit freaked out. The kids, though… the kids fucking love it.”
“So I see.”
College sighs heavily, shakes his head. “He was right, though, wasn’t he?”
She looks at him quizzically.
“Grids. He was right. About us not knowing what came next. That’s why all this failed. We didn’t have any vision, did we? Just some beliefs and some ideals. But no way of, y’know, making something solid out of them. No organizing, no planning. Instead we ended up just scrabbling around, trying to fix things, trying to keep them patched up.” He looks out at the crowd streaming past. “It’s no different to what it was like before, really.”
“I guess not. But hey, you got another chance now. A whole new network.”
“Yeah.” He laughs. “I guess. Maybe. Just make sure we don’t make the same mistakes as last time, huh?”
“Ah, we probably will.”
“Yeah, probably. I just wonder if actually this is all just bullshit, y’know? Like maybe our brains just ain’t designed to deal with networks. They’re not going to evolve to interface with millions of other people. They’re just not designed for that. And trying to force it just makes us angry and actually more alienated.”
“I dunno. Didn’t they say the same about television?”
“Yeah. Well.” He laughs. “Television fucked things up pretty bad. You remember advertising? Politics?”
“Yeah. Good point.”
They look at each other for a second.
“So what now?” he asks her.
“Me? I’m going back. Wales.” She taps the shoulder strap of her bag. “Gotta get these back. People need them.”
“For what? I mean… what’s the plan?”
“I dunno.” She looks off into the distance, down the street at the gathering crowds. “We’re getting our asses kicked out there. Lots of little cells spread through the valleys, insiders working in farm camps. Trying to disrupt stuff as much as possible. The hope is we can set up a network, get everyone working together. Get everyone watching each other’s backs. Coordinate. Give us a bit of an advantage over the army. The upper hand, for once.”
College laughs. “So, despite everything, you’ve not given up, then? Right now you sound more positive than me.”
“What d’you mean?”
He taps his spex. “This. You sound more positive about all this. I woke up this morning kinda defeated, worried we’re just going to keep repeating mistakes, distractions. But you’re all fired up again. You sound like the old days.”
“Ha. I guess I do.”
“You sound like you think you can make a difference.”
“Yeah. I guess I do. I have to. People are dying.” Awkwardness hangs in the air between them. She puts her hand on his shoulder, squeezes gently. “Look, don’t let it get you down. Maybe Grids is right, maybe this is all a fucking waste of time. A huge distraction, and we’re all going to make the same mistakes again. Thing is, College, at least you’re trying. You want it to not fuck up? Then don’t let it. Take some ownership of it. Shape things. Talk to people. Organize. That’s where we fucked up last time, we just burned everything down, didn’t plan for afterwards. Grids was right about that.”
“I guess.”
“Look, I got faith in you. You know this place, you know these people. Help them. Give them what they need. Take the lead if they need you to. Don’t be scared of power. That’s the other way we fucked up before, we were always scared of power, of taking the lead. We just thought everything would sort itself out somehow. It won’t. It’s not enough to just take power away from those in charge. If we don’t use it ourselves, they just take it back.”
She pauses again. “Look. I’ve got faith in you. You’ll do what’s right. You’ve got this. And if you ever feel like you ain’t, come find me in Wales, and I’ll give you another patronizing pep talk.”
College laughs. “Seriously, though. Thanks. I needed that. I feel better.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.” He sighs, low and deep. “So this is it, huh?”
“Yeah. This is it. Gotta catch my ride before he heads back.”
“No convincing you to stay?”
“No. No, College.”
“Then I won’t try.” Instead he smiles that big goofy smile of his, and hugs her. They hold each other tight, and when she speaks, it’s into the warm, musky comfort of his chest.
“Thank you.”
“Just fucking take care of yourself, yeah?”
“I will.”
“You fucking promise me?”
“I fucking promise you,” she says, holding back sobs. “Maybe I’ll be back.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
When they separate she holds his cheek for a second, then turns and leaves, walking against the tides of the crowd, not looking back.
The crowd flows around Grids like a stream around a rock, splitting itself naturally and re-forming behind him, keeping a respectable distance. They know who he is. At best they smile or nod, say a couple of words, but most drop their heads slightly, avoiding eye contact. Too hammered by a decade of chaos, uncertainty, of scraping around for shelter and existence in the shattered shell of the city, they know when to step aside, to stay quiet. So they make way, walk around. Flowing like air over a wing, effortlessly passing across the frictionless field of significance he projects around him.
But for the first time in a while he can feel that significance ebbing away. Too many motherfuckers in this crowd with College’s damn spex on their faces. Walking past him, flowing past as part of some semiautonomous crowd dynamic, but not actually seeing him. Distracted.