MonuMental: The Hack's Back

Chapter 5: Why am I still here?

Chapter 5: Why am I still here?

That same evening, after Arizona had fixed and eaten her dinner and put in some study, she summoned up the strength to visit her mother. It was nine o’clock. Over the months Arizona had come to know well the rises and falls of her mother’s drug-induced sleep pattern. Now was a good time.

She entered her mother’s bedroom, leaving the lights off, stood in one corner and waited. Through the fine mesh that hung over her mother’s bed, she watched as her frail chest rose and fell. Her eyes were shut but she might be awake. You never could tell. Arizona had to wait and see. The mesh, which was drawn up to a single hook in the ceiling, was there to protect her from flying insects – the common household fly or moth, it did not matter how small – that might settle upon exposed skin.

Rods of light from a ziptram passing over the house cut through the window’s slats and diced the air, spreading diffused patterns over the mesh canopy. Then came the howl from its engines. It was a big one. It was unusual to have a ziptram travel overhead – they were meant to stick to the airways above main streets. And at such a low altitude!

Arizona crept closer to her mother’s bed. She still seemed young. Younger than her mid-forties. Young yet ancient too.

‘Mother?’ She kept her whisper to no more than a breath. ‘Are you awake?’ When there was no answer she bent down, picked up the mesh and shrugged underneath.

Now much closer, she climbed to her feet, cautious not to touch her. She leaned in. At this proximity, her skin looked crisp and shone faintly, like a dragonfly’s wing. Though the light was fading, she could see through the thin tissue to the map of blue veins. To touch her would cause her agony.

Arizona lowered her head and put a hand to her brow. Every time she came here, it struck her: the memory of her father. His face behind his fist.The swing of it.

In a horrific way, he’d inadvertently taught his daughter some things. Self-protection. How to keep your distance. Strength, even.

Her mother, older, had learned only one thing. How to fade from the real world.

Arizona would never forgive him for the harm he’d caused them.

She stretched out her arm and held her hand as near to her mother as she dared. She could feel no heat from her. The life in her was small. She slowly moved her hand along a plane above her mother’s form, imagining that she was massaging her. She let her hand drift over her mother’s feet.

The Zeepad attached to her belt sang out – a soft ding dong that told her she had a message. Her mother’s eyelids trembled. One glance down to her Zeepad showed her it wasn’t a call. It was an audio message. So, not a friend then. None of them would send a faceless, audio-only message. It must be school stuff. Something to listen to before tomorrow. Well, it could wait.

Again: ding dong.

‘Redirect to school,’ she whispered to it. ‘I’ll check it out later.’

Her mother opened her eyes and they looked at each other.

‘Can you see me?' Arizona asked. 'I’m here, by your side. I have had my dinner and put in some study time, like you always ask.’ Her hushed words were stark in the quiet of the bedroom.

‘I can see you,’ her mother said. ‘Pretend to stroke my hair.’

Arizona moved her hand back and forth as close to her hair as she dared.

‘Closer, Ari.’

‘Mum, no. I’m frightened to.’

‘Pretend to touch me.’