The Rainbow Maker's Tale Read online



  The Rainbow Maker’s Tale

  Melanie Cusick-Jones

  Copyright © 2013 by Melanie Cusick-Jones

  This edition copyright © 2014 by Melanie Cusick-Jones

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover.

  www.cusick-jones.com

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  For my parents, who taught me about the wonderful worlds that live inside books and answered my random questions about ‘The Egyptians’ and acid rain…

  Thank you, for always being there for me.

  “Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.”

  Albert Einstein

  Chapter 1

  It was days like this when I felt it more than ever: I wasn’t a real human.

  Was today’s air staler than normal?

  Perhaps, subconsciously I detected a musty note to the oxygen that was moving through my body, and that caused the day to start on a sour note…? Or – more likely – it was because pretty much every day I struggled to feel like a human being. I just hid it from myself better than I was doing today.

  Generally, I believed I hid most things well, myself included. The ability to be invisible in a small room filled with people was a talent I was confident I had perfected during my seventeen year existence on the Space Station Hope.

  Existence!

  I laughed harshly when I realised the word I had chosen: not living, merely existing. I acknowledged the distinction grimly. Ugh. I was feeling bitter this morning.

  The alarm from the viewing screen chimed melodiously. Normally it would have brought wakefulness, but I was already awake today. The sound was simultaneously piercing and soothing to my disturbed mind. I sighed. It was definitely going to be one of those days.

  “Balik?”

  I heard Mother’s voice call out to me as she passed through the corridor outside my room. Her accompanying knock was a reminder for me to get up, get dressed, come for breakfast, leave for school... It didn’t particularly matter what it meant: it was always the same knock and I always obeyed. Today’s knock meant get up.

  Kicking away the thermocontrol sheet that had shrouded me as I lay in bed, I knew I was taking my frustration out on a harmless, inanimate object. It didn’t stop me doing it though and I huffed as I pulled myself into a sitting position.

  Why was I so annoyed this morning?

  There was a part of me that hated the angry beast that dwelled permanently inside me – waiting to make itself known. Another part of me relished the familiarity of the feeling that enveloped me when it reared its furious head. Of all the human emotions I was familiar with, anger was the one I most particularly disliked, but was also the one that permeated my moods most frequently.

  Screwing my eyes tightly shut I breathed slowly in and out, in and out. The air pulled deep into my chest as it filled my lungs – stale or not I couldn’t decipher – and cooled the heat of my temper. When I opened my eyes again I was calmer, controlled, and ready to face the world. Or at least, face my parents.

  Entering the living space I glanced around me. Our apartment pod looked exactly the same as it always did: polished white and cream plastic walls; empty chairs arranged neatly around the table. I looked around for a sign that Father was here, but didn’t see any. That wasn’t a surprise. I was lucky if I saw him more than once or twice a week. Who would have thought that working in the Family Quarter’s Engineering division would be so time consuming. Certainly not me, but on the plus side of things, it gave me one less parent to deal with.

  My regulatory breakfast sat waiting for me, its perfect balance of fibre, carbohydrate and vitamins familiar, as it beckoned from the otherwise empty table. As always, Mother was there, waiting for me. Today she was standing in the kitchen staring out of the window.

  “Good morning Mother,” I greeted her politely, as I scraped a chair away from the table and took my seat, trying to ignore the awkwardness of the uncomfortable grating noise in the silent space. She turned slightly and appraised me with curiosity, as though my words had alerted her to something that I was unaware of.

  “Good morning, Balik,” she replied, after a second or so more of staring. “How are you feeling today?”

  “Fine, thank you.”

  I focused on the breakfast plate in front of me as a distraction, inhaling the familiar smell of the food. In truth I felt blank and a little numb now that my earlier anger had passed. All I had left was another day of existence to look forward to. But, feeling empty was not unusual for me, and a blank mind was a regular feature of my life, especially around my parents.

  I had no solid reasoning or tangible evidence for my conviction that certain people on the station could understand things about me, when I had never spoken them aloud. As irrational as it was – usually I was the most logical of people – this was what I felt…what I believed. It had been a long time since I had allowed myself to think and feel freely when I was in the presence of anyone else.

  My rational mind could only construe that the expression of my face and the meaning between my words gave away much more than I wished to divulge when I spoke to anyone. As I had grown older and found secrets that I wanted to keep to myself, it had forced me to stop speaking…then I had stopped thinking… Only I knew about the lies I had found, and until I had worked out why we were being lied to, then I had to hide what I knew. It was only when I was alone that I was free to be as angry and frustrated as I wanted. What a wonderful person I was!

  “Are you worried about your examinations?” Mother’s voice was soft and probing, as though she could sense something about me but couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.

  Her question caught me off-guard and I froze for half a second, my fork part way between my plate and my mouth. It wasn’t often she made conversation with me, especially in a morning; usually she would hover around until I had eaten my meal and taken my vitamin pills. Then she would leave for another day of work at The Clinic.

  What made today different?

  Nothing was immediately apparent and so, shaking away my question, I answered hers.

  “Not especially.” It was the final day of the school exams, but the worst was behind me, just History that afternoon and then I would be free.

  Well, free of school at least. I wasn’t sure I could ever be truly free on the space station given all the limitations we had. But, that was a whole other aggravation.

  I glanced up and saw that Mother was still standing beside the table, her eyes fixed on me: she wanted more. I swallowed noisily.

  “My least favourite subjects have all been done and they seemed to go well enough.”

  “One of my colleagues at The Clinic said most of the leavers are going to Park 17 when the exam is finished. Will you be celebrating with your friends afterwards?” Mother’s eyes remained unblinkingly focused on my face.

  It surprised me that she didn’t already know the answer to this – partly due to her uncanny ability to guess correctly things about me that I thought were well concealed – but more because it was so obvious from my lack of social interaction with anyone. I didn’t have friends.

  It made me wonder whether Mother truly knew how good I was at making myself invisible among my peers, or why I might be
doing that in the first place. But then, most of the time I didn’t really understand my behaviour myself. It wasn’t logical or planned, it just happened that way. Why should Mother understand me, when I didn’t understand myself?

  I was an outsider. I was unhappy with the guarded and restricted existence we led on the space station, but too scared to reveal my true feelings that were so at odds with everyone else around me. They all seemed happy with their beautiful cage and didn’t want to see beyond the bars. The problem was, that I did look. And, when you stared into the shadows, things here felt…wrong.

  Shaking my head slightly, I dismissed the thoughts that were whirling through my mind and refocused on Mother’s question. “Probably not,” I muttered.

  After searching my half-empty plate for answers that did not appear, I left it at that. I could tell Mother was dissatisfied with my response, but satisfied that there was nothing more I had to say on the subject. Returning to normal, she hovered at my shoulder until I’d finished my food and taken my vitamins. I was grateful that she let the silence open between us once again, uncomfortable though it was, it was better than the alternative of having to converse with one another.