Jasper Fforde - Early Riser

‘Hullo, Wonky,’ he said.

‘Can we please drop the whole Wonky thing?’ I asked. ‘It’s not really doing much for me.’

‘Jim Treacle would kill for a nickname,’ said Fodder.

‘He’s been dropping hints we could call him “Sticky” for three seasons,’ said Jonesy, ‘but we won’t give him the honour.’

‘What have I done that honours me with a nickname?’

‘You went back to get Mrs Tiffen.’

‘True – but Logan died because of it.’

‘It was the unforeseen outcome of courageous motivation and adherence to duty,’ said Fodder in a quiet voice. ‘Despite everything that happened afterwards, you have grit. You concur, Jonesy?’

‘I do,’ said Jonesy.

‘Then accept the honour, Wonky. Cherish the accolade, never complain again.’

And he pulled me into a Winter embrace. He smelled of woodsmoke, musty clothes and spent thermalites, and held me for quite a long time, and far harder than was comfortable, and kissed me softly on the ear, twice.

‘So, Wonky,’ he said once he’d let me go, ‘is that coffee any good?’

‘It’s the worst I’ve ever tasted.’

‘Excellent – after twelve years of wintering I can’t drink anything else. Pour me one, would you?’

So I did while he stared at me with his dark empty eyes.

‘What’s that worthless bag of shit’s nickname again?’ came Toccata’s voice from the other side of the office.

‘Wonky,’ said Fodder and Jonesy in unison.

‘Thanks for that,’ I said in a quiet voice.

‘Wonky?’ shouted Toccata. ‘Out the front in five.’

‘What do you think she wants?’ I asked, jumping to my feet.

‘Don’t know,’ said Fodder. ‘Perhaps she wants to have you for lunch.’

‘Very funny.’

‘You can drive,’ said Toccata, climbing into the passenger seat of Aurora’s four-wheel drive, now without the nightwalkers tied to the back.

‘Isn’t this Aurora’s transport?’ I asked, starting the vehicle anyway.

‘Like I give a shit,’ said Toccata. ‘We’re going up to HiberTech to see Aurora.’

‘Okay,’ I said, wondering how that was possible. ‘For what reason?’

‘Pantry resupply mainly, but also to find out why you were marooned. I want to see how they react to you, too. Keep your eyes and ears open and report back everything you hear. Especially any details about Project Lazarus. Let’s see how good that memory of yours actually is.’

I reversed out of the parking lot and drove down into the town square, past Howell Harris and the lorry still stuck fast on the bridge. Toccata stared at me the whole time, then reached out a hand and tweaked my bony forearm.

‘You’re very skinny,’ she said. ‘Did you do any dreaming on your four-week sojourn to the dark side?’

‘No, ma’am.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘The one thing I loathe more than winsomniacs is dreamers. Feet on the ground, head out of the clouds. Agree?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘I don’t like subordinates always agreeing,’ she said. ‘Sycophants have no place in my department. You’re to speak your mind when the opportunity calls for it.’

‘How will I know when that is?’

‘I shall inform you. Park over there.’

We’d arrived at the HiberTech facility, which looked a little cheerier in the daylight, but not by much.

We were buzzed in as before and Josh was still at the receptionist desk, only with four more ‘Employee of the Week’ pictures behind him. The golf-cart driver, Dave, I noted, had been replaced by another rewired nightwalker, this time a woman. Her hair had been given the buzzcut usually associated with any nightwalker who had been redeployed, and she blinked occasionally while she stared at the floor, but was otherwise utterly vacant.

Josh nodded a nervous greeting to us both and Toccata said she wanted to see Aurora.

‘What, now?’

‘Yes, now.’

‘I don’t think she’s in.’

‘Why don’t you check?’

‘Okay.’

Toccata went and sat on one of the benches while Josh picked up the phone.

‘Dave the driver deployed elsewhere?’ I said to Josh.

‘Simpler duties,’ he replied, ‘currently employed as a thermostat in F-Block. Recognise his replacement?’

It was only when Josh mentioned it I realised it was Mrs Tiffen. I took a step forward to greet her, but then stopped myself. She wouldn’t know who I was, and from the look of her, she had lost the ability to play the bouzouki, too. I think I preferred her when she could, no matter how annoying that might have been. I turned back to Josh, who was looking at me with a concerned expression on his face.

‘I don’t like it here,’ he said in a low voice. ‘What’s happening, what’s going to happen. With Project Lazarus, I mean.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Walls have ears,’ he said nervously. ‘But look, just supposing I knew someone who wanted to get in touch with RealSleep, would you be able to make contact?’

‘No,’ I said, wondering if this request was genuine, or part of a HiberTech plot to check me out, ‘and I’m not sure you should be asking.’

‘Fair enough,’ he said, ‘but here’s something: if you can get out of Sector Twelve in any way, shape or form, then do it.’

‘That’s not particularly original advice.’

‘No,’ said Josh with a sigh, ‘and I wish I’d heeded it when I first heard it.’

He pointed a pencil at Toccata.

‘You do know they’re the same person?’

‘I found out the hard way.’

‘Has she threatened to pull out your tongue if you step out of line?’

‘Yes, and not in the painless way.’

‘As far as we know it’s a bluff,’ said Josh, ‘but it’s hard to say. Does that make you feel any better?’

‘Not much.’

He made the call, then handed us our visitor badges and walked around to instruct one of the redeployed on the golf carts. Not Mrs Tiffen, though, the one with the badge denoting him as ‘Chas’. Josh helped us on board, showed the redeployed the map, and we were off, just not quite as dangerously as before.

‘The other redeployed golf-cart driver was Mrs Tiffen,’ I said to Toccata, ‘the woman I brought over here four weeks ago.’

‘That’s quick work,’ she replied. ‘Do you know how much money they make from the redeployed?’

‘No.’

‘Lots,’ she said, not sounding as if she knew either, ‘but they’ll make a shitload more if Vacants can be made skilled, although the unions won’t be happy. Peppermint?’ She held out a small white bag. ‘Take two. Shit, take the whole bag.’

I thought of what Jonesy had told me, about how Toccata fed nightwalkers peppermint to make them more palatable.

‘No, thanks.’

‘Go on,’ she said, ‘you look like you need feeding up.’

‘Maybe later,’ I said, but took the bag anyway.

We were driven down several corridors, took a left turn and stopped outside two large double doors where Mr Hooke was waiting for us.

‘I-will-wait-for-you-here,’ said the golf-cart driver, and I looked at him, intending to say thank you, and found myself staring. His badge still described him as Chas, but he was, in fact, Charles , whose likeness decorated my dream – albeit retrospectively, agreed – and was also on the missing persons flier I had in my back pocket. He had a beard and cropped hair, but it was the same person. If he’d vanished in Sector Twelve, he hadn’t gone very far, nor for that long.

‘Well, well,’ said Toccata as Mr Hooke approached us, ‘the return of the living dead. Eaten any babies today?’

‘Unfunny as usual,’ said Hooke in an even tone, ignoring me entirely. ‘Would you like to come in?’