“A tiny light—a star, they called it—caused him to appear. Then he destroyed everyone at the table.”
“Not the banquet!” The chairman spluttered and coughed. “I feel doubly heinous for keeping them waiting now.” He went quiet, the low pumping of his machine ticking over. “This star—did it move of its own accord?”
“It floated above the table and Mr Wayfarer somehow came out of it. It’s difficult to describe.” Kattar raised his hand to his face, seeking the lines on his palm with bleary eyes. “When I held it, it healed me. I had scratches on my hand, but there’s no trace of any injury now. That’s when they knew I wasn’t one of them.”
“The rules are different for you and me. We’re the top and the bottom. They exist in-between, and they know it. That star can heal me too.”
“You think so?” Kattar turned his head to face the chairman.
“I know so. Help me out. Get me to the banqueting table.”
“You’re crazy. Mr Wayfarer is there. I just left that room and it was in chaos.”
“You don’t have to come with me. I need you to push me into the elevator. The tower will know where to take me.”
“Won’t he kill you too?”
The chairman smiled. “Mr Wayfarer gets us all. I’m already dead, just like all those fools. If he’s as angry as you say he is then he’s already sweeping through the building, his lust for destruction his only release. We’ll feel the ramifications soon enough. He’ll undermine the fabric, tear through girders, tilt the tower until it falls. It was a matter of time. I think you can agree that we both need our exits as soon as possible. My best chance of walking out of here is that dancing star. It will still be there. He would’ve abandoned it in his tantrum, and he wouldn’t’ve left anybody else behind to claim it. It’s mine.” Sunlight spilt, a high cloud passing in front of the sun out of sight up above, sending a fan of rays in a streamer hitting the tower behind the chairman, hot light like reentry, creating a phosphorescing frame around the iron lung in silhouette and his domed head peeking out from one end.
“Get Anna to me and I’ll push you. Otherwise you can stay there.” Kattar met the chairman’s gaze. He wanted to feel ashamed. The chairman wasn’t a bad guy, was he? He didn’t seem much of anything.
“Alright. I would’ve called on her anyway, but I understand your need for give and take.” The chairman closed his eyes, moved into deep concentration. Lights reflected onto his face, scrolling, blocks of squares, fuzzy icons, backwards text. He blinked, with intent, some blinks flickering, some longer, a pattern. An instruction. The lights faded out.
The chairman opened his eyes, staring blankly. “She was hiding somewhere down below. You must’ve missed her. If she’s evaded Mr Wayfarer until now there was little hope in you discovering where she was. She’s coming up in the elevator, the one you need to deliver me to.”
Kattar stood. “Thank you.”
“We’ve got to take our chances. You take every one you are given. This isn’t the rehearsal.”
The chairman’s head pointed towards the elevator, floor indicator lights showing the swiftness of the ascent. So many floors up. It didn’t feel so high.
“Get her to help you push this thing when she gets here. It’s a bastard to move.”
“Don’t you need to be plugged in or something?”
“It’s all self-contained.” The chairman’s wheezing increased in pronouncement.
A ding reverberated around the floor, cutting the air, touching the glass surround. The elevator doors opened and a young woman stepped out warily, office wear as uniform, hair swept back and restrained, eyes travelling the floor to assess her surroundings, to check that Wayfarer was otherwise engaged. Her demeanour couldn’t hide who she was, the outline of her frame in motion one he’d replayed in his mind over and over. His Anna from all those years ago. The city had stolen her away back then, her ambitions sent her to climb the bustle with the rats. She was the one who was rosebud in memory, his hurt was nothing because she was first and his best shot. He’d buried himself in order to bless her on her way and stayed in a coffin suit ever since.
She looked at him, like he was strange and powerful, his presence an astounding mystery, a play on the surface of the planet, such a step outside time.
“Anna,” he said, “I didn’t know it was you.”
“Don’t stand there like fools,” the chairman said, “Get me in the elevator before we miss it.”
Kattar moved to grasp the iron lung near the rear of the machine. Anna silently walked to the opposite side and they pushed the chairman between the elevator doors and inside.
“How will you get to the star? It was above the table the last I saw. You’ll need someone to wheel you into the room.”
“Don’t worry about that,” the chairman said as the elevator began to close, “You’ve seen how it can travel. The doors will open and my gift will fly to me!” He laughed and descended into a coughing fit as the doors neatly closed and silenced him.
Then there was Anna. Every cell in her body had renewed itself since he last saw her, felt her, but everything was monument, a ship unmistakable.
He had to tell her the story. “I was looking for you. I mean, I was looking for someone called Anna. I didn’t connect. Would never have dreamt. The woman, on the lower floor, she’s hurt, very badly, but still alive. She thinks that you believe she’s dead, that Mr Wayfarer got her. In a way he did. She’s dying. There’s no hope for her. Her injuries—it’s not pleasant. Impossible she’s still alive. But she is. She said to me ‘I won’t die.’ Maybe she’s dead already, I don’t know. But she wants me to tell you she understands. Why you ran. And that, if you can, she wants you to go back, to be with her. She suffers. You’re her friend, she said. She said that you’d want to know, to be given the option. From what I understood of her, she won’t blame you if you don’t go back.”
“Kattar. What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.”
“I work here.”
She raised an eyebrow. “After all the melodrama about me leaving for the city, you did the same.” Nodding, she smiled puzzled and wide.
“It wasn’t my choice. Mum had to move after Dad died. We have family here. I told you that, do you remember? I said I’d come to stay with my cousin, so I could see you.”
Her eyes fell. “Yeah, I remember now.”
Eyes lifted to his, and a tiny nod of affirmation stopped them both. “How come I’ve never seen you? I can’t believe you’ve been in this building and our paths haven’t crossed,” she said.
“I stay in the background. If no one notices me then it’s been a good day. I don’t look up much so I wouldn’t see you either.”