Century Road
an excerpt

Dad wakes us up in the middle of the night, tears slowly streaming down his face. That is when I immediately know something is wrong. Dad has never cried, for as long as I remember. But now he is doing so and his hands are trembling. “Beth,” he said, shaking, “wake your brother up, will you?”

Silently, I nod, and slip off to the room adjoining mine. The floor is cold and I suddenly wince at myself for not wearing slippers to do so, although I didn’t think Dad would have appreciated if I had dawdled to put on footwear.

“Brian?” I whisper softly, opening his bedroom door with a creak. “Something’s wrong…with Dad.”

Brian is out of the bed like a shotgun, raring to go, even though was deeply asleep only a few minutes before. “What’s wrong?” he mumbles, clear eyed and fully alert.

“Dad’s…” I trail off. Maybe if I didn’t admit it aloud, it would cease to be the truth. “Dad’s…crying,” I admit, not looking Brian right in the eyes.

Ben looks confused, and I understand why he does. “Dad never cries,” he states flatly, as if telling me this negates the fact that I saw him doing so only minutes ago.

“Please, Brian, I don’t have time for this,” I plead. “He needs to tell us something,” I say, tugging on the sleeve of his red and white striped pajama top.

Brian shuts up, thankfully, and he follows me into the hall where Dad stays waiting for us, his hands clenching and opening, eyes still red-rimmed from the tears he’s been letting loose. Brian does nothing to hide the sharp breath he takes in when he sees Dad like this.

“Dad,” he says, running up to him, “what’s wrong?”

Dad merely rests his head on Ben’s shoulder, and is completely silent for a few gut-wrenching moments. Then, softly, he whispers. “Your mum,” he says, holding onto Brian, “she’s gone…gone to Heaven.”

“No!” Brian shouts, pulling away from Dad. “Don’t say that! Please don’t say that! It’s not the truth—no!”

I lean against the wall, not quite sure why my face is burning with embarrassment. Maybe it is because I feel as if I am intruding on some private family grief. My own mother died when I was three years old. Brian is five years my junior: he is only ten. This could be too much for him.

Reassuringly, my dad places an arm around him. “It’s the truth, Brian,” he mutters, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice. “I saw the Angels take her away.”

Brian cries into Dad’s shoulder. “I knew it was coming,” he admits, “but I didn’t want it to,”

“It’s okay. It’ll all be okay.” Dad’s placatory words have no affect on me because I know this will change our lives forever, how could it not?

Suddenly, Dad acknowledges my existence again. “Beth,” he says in an undertone, “we must pretend everything is normal, understood?”

“Yeah, because everything is just peachy,” I say, unable to stop myself. “She’s gone. Everyone one will know about this, everyone will treat us like we’re the freaks of the neighbourhood. I hate this, this is stupid. If you knew it was coming, you should have been able to do something! Anything!”

Dad’s eyes harden for a moment, and I fear that he is about to yell at me. But then they soften again. "You know I don't have those sort of powers, Beth. We just go on living as if it is normal. Your sister will be waking up any moment now, she'll be confused, as Mum is usually the one who looks after her first thing in the morning. You will pick her up, and just tell her that Mummy's gone and you will be taking care of her from now on. Then bring her into the kitchen, and we will have breakfast. Then, you and Brian will go to school, and I will remain at home with Lisa. I will be making arrangements with my relatives for your futures, so I would not like to be disturbed. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Yes, Dad," I say sullenly, quite unbelieving of the fact that he is still going to send me to school. The sympathetic looks and the hushed voices might be more than I can take. I can barely remember today's date. Maybe I should note it down somewhere, so I can have a definite date in the diary of my life. A date I can point to in my calendar, which I can point to and say, 'this is the date when my life changed.'

"Please go wake Lisa up," Dad asks, and he's already speaking in a hushed voice. I'm going to be driven crazy in a day, I know. Brian is still frozen behind me, he is just beginning to look teary.

"Brian, what's the date?" I enquire, as I know he actually keeps track of things like this.

He looks up at me in surprise. "It's the 21st of March, 2087."

There we go, then. The 21st of March, 2087. The day my life changed forever. Suddenly, I do not want to think too much, do not want to dwell on too much of anything. Maybe I should follow Dad's advice. Maybe I should pretend everything is normal. But that would be a lie, and the only person I never lie to is myself.

I drag my feet to Lisa’s room, and see that she is still sleeping. I am reluctant to awaken her and made her rejoin the hectic madness that our lives have become. But the sun will be coming up soon, and this will be just like any other day. I will make it be just like any other day.

“Lisa,” I coo, “Rise and shine!”

Lisa and Brian have both been blessed (or cursed) with being very light sleepers. As soon as I call her name, Lisa starts stirring and stretching. After a minute, her bright eyes bore into mine. “You not Mummy,” she accuses, pointing a chubby finger at me. Immediately, she starts wailing. “I WANT MUMMY!” she screams. “MUMMMY!”

Ignoring her screams, I lift her out of her cot. She’s most likely growing a bit too big for it. She’s nearly two years old. But how do you tell a two-year-old that her mummy’s not coming back? Do you even do such a thing? Would such a thing be considered cruelty? I’m so confused; the worst part is that I keep expecting her to come back at the end of the day to help me solve all these problems. The reality just hasn’t sunk in yet. Maybe it never will. Maybe she will come back. Suddenly a spark of hope is lit inside my chest, and I make myself believe that she is coming back. I have never heard of people returning from Heaven before, but I never know, maybe she will be the first.

This delusion makes my heart light, safer, I feel happier, I can get through today, I can live through school, because I will see her again. With hope, I can live the rest of my life pretending nothing has ever happened.

I hold Lisa tight to my chest, breathing in the scent of her hair. Today, it smells like strawberries. “I love you, Lise,” I tell her, and she screams in my ear as a response. “It’s okay,” I tell her, jiggling her up and down. “Mummy’s just a bit busy right now, so Daddy said I can take care of you from now on.”

Soon, she stops wailing, and places her thumb in her mouth and sucks on it slowly. I carry her into the kitchen and place her in the high chair. She immediately kicks at it, beats her tiny fists on the surface. “DUN WANNA!” she screams, her petite face scrunched up.

“Darling, you know you have to,” Dad says, sighing as he goes through sheaf after sheaf of legal documents. “It’s government regulation.”

I throw Dad an incredulous look. “I don’t think toddlers care about government regulations,” I say, wrestling the lid off a jar of jam.

“Well,” Dad says, “I do. The walls have ears,” he pointed to the government’s recording device, which was placed next to the light switch in every room, “and the ceilings has eyes.” He pointed unnecessarily to the obviously placed camera.

I glare at them, just as I do everyday. “Can’t we just get rid of them?” I ask bitterly.

“No, of course not, Beth, don’t be stupid. You know if the government stops getting reception from here we’d all be in deep trouble.”

Methodically, I eat my breakfast. I don’t even know what I am eating. Lisa has fun with last night’s left over noodles, splattering them all over the floor. I sigh and get a mop to clean it up, grateful for any distraction. Brian, however, just stares at the cereal packet. There is no soul behind his eyes, he is empty.

I punch him in the shoulder as I pass him. “Cheer up, mate. You look just as if…” I trail off because he glares at me.

“You’re an insensitive jerk, Beth!” he yells as he stomps away from the room.

“Whoops,” I say, to no-one other than myself. I gather my laptop and make sure my handheld is in my pocket, and declare myself presentable enough for school. I do not care that my hair is tattered and unbrushed, looking as if a bird could take up lodgings in it. I don’t care that my teeth are still yellow with last night’s food because I was too lazy to brush them before I went to sleep. It is very unlikely that I am going to do any smiling today. I swing my laptop case over my shoulder and head out the door to wait for the shuttle.

It comes on time, as it always does. If it was even half a minute late, they could get in major trouble from the government and its transport regulations. Major companies do not want to be sued, and thus the shuttles are always on time. I am the first person to be picked up on my route. I always am. Brian takes another shuttle, the younger ones go to a different entrance.

I take a seat near the back, unwilling to be disturbed. I want to sleep and wake up in a world where everything was simpler. In a world where every single thing you did and said wasn’t monitored by the government. I would not be at all surprised if by the time I was thirty that they could tell what we were thinking as well, manipulate our thoughts so we could all be come a cog in the great machine that was the Century Road project. The deal is with the Century Road project is that no-one is supposed to know about it. It’s a top secret government experiment, and we are their little guinea pigs. Mum, however, figured it out and told me about it. The shuttle jolts as it hits a pothole (what the hell is that doing there? The road and transport authorities are going to be sued so bad…different government departments can sue each other, and often do.)

What happens if what happened to her happens to me, because she’s told me about the project? What happens if they don’t want anyone to know? If they’re willing to go to any extreme to stop people from finding out? Suddenly, my body feels as if it’s been doused in cold water. Is it safe for me to go to school today? I can’t leave the shuttle until I get there, so I have no choice. I am trapped.

The government is always watching…watching…

I twiddle my thumbs nervously, the camera in the back corner whirrs at me. I wonder if it can see the beads of sweat lining my forehead. They know. They must know. They’re planning to take me away then. The Angels are planning to take me away when I get to school. I am doomed. I cannot save myself. It is inevitable.

Tears start rolling down my face. Now I know. If I hadn’t pressured her about it, hasn’t been so suspicious of her keeping secrets from me, maybe the government would have never known. Maybe the Angels never would have taken her away.