Jeff Noon - Pixel Juice

'You nicked it?' I said.

'Sure I did.'

Eliot had taken his shirt off. It sure was hot, that summer.

'Off your uncle?'

'Yeah, right out of his bedroom. I went round, asking if he wanted anything from the shops. He said he'd make a list, and while he was doing that, while his back was turned, I just nicked the first feather I could find.'

'Bloody hell! Let's have a look, then.'

'Careful with it.'

Eliot handed me the feather, the black feather. I held it by the tip, as though it was alive, or something, like it was dangerous. I spun it around, and the warmth of the sun seemed to catch in the flights, glittering.

'You see the way it sparkles?' Eliot asked. 'The colours? The pink bits?'

'Yeah.'

'It's not just black, you see. It's got stuff added to it.'

'Just colours, is all. Just a tiny bit of pink in it, is all. What does that mean, pink in it?'

'Don't know. But that's where the knowledge is, in the colours. Didn't you read that?'

'Yeah, I read that. Doesn't mean it's a Vurt feather, though.'

'Only one way to find out.'

'What? You mean…?'

'Let's do it.'

'Put it in our mouths? No way!'

'You scared, is that it? Scared of a feather?'

'That's not it, no.'

'What is it then?'

'You shouldn't have nicked it. Slippy will kill you.'

'So let's do it then, before he finds out.'

'OK, but you do it. You do it on your own. I'll just watch you doing it.'

'No. You're not supposed to do Vurt on your own. Didn't you read that?'

'Yeah. Yeah, I read that. Don't do it on your own.'

'So?'

'You reckon this will tell us how to tame candle bugs?'

'That's it, Scribble.'

'OK. But you first, then.'

'No, you first.'

'Why me first?'

'Because I'll do it, and then you won't do it.'

'How do I know you won't do the same?'

'Because I want to do it. Do you understand?'

'I understand.'

'Good. Give it here, then.'

So I give the feather back to Eliot. He tells me to open my mouth, which I do. Wider, he says. I open wider, wide as I can, just to get it over with. And he takes the feather, and he lays it against my lip, and it touches my tongue.

And all around the candle bugs are going wild. And the sun, the sun is beating down, like I can taste the sun on my tongue, and the tall grass is filled with wanting. And for a tiny second I think, Thank God, it's just a blackbird's feather after all, and then the sun bursts into flame, almost burns itself out.

Sudden.

And I slide away, sideways and down…

It's night. Somewhere in the world, it's night. I wake up in my bed. I can hear my mum and dad shouting at each other from downstairs. Maybe I should go and visit my sister's room. Desdemona doesn't mind if I wake her up sometimes, just to talk the night away, especially when Mum and Dad are arguing. So I get up. For some reason I must have gone to bed with all my clothes on, but it doesn't bother me. Then there's a knocking at my bedroom door. I say to come in, thinking it must be Desdemona, but it's Eliot who comes in. He says, come on, Scribble, we've got to find them bugs now, they must be living in your house. I think, of course, of course they are. We planned this earlier, this bug hunt, I must have forgotten until now. So we go downstairs, real quiet. I can't hear any shouting any more, only my captured breath, Eliot's whispered instructions, the slow chime of a clock. We get to the kitchen. It's dark, I want to put on the light, Eliot says no, we use the torch. He's brought a torch with him. I've got the net in one hand, the jar in the other. I can't remember when I picked them up. In the kitchen, tiny scrabblings can be heard, like ice cracking say, or gravel moving. It's coming from the sink. There's a pile of dirty dishes in there. Eliot tells me to get ready, he's going to switch on the torch. I stand poised with the net raised. The light, when it comes, seems as bright as the sun, and it dazzles me. And the sudden rush of a thousand pieces of orange, as the beetles scatter for darkness. I'm scared. Eliot yells at me to strike, so I bring down the net, just bring it down indiscriminately, crashing into the pots. What a noise it makes. But a slow noise, a coloured blue noise. Did you get one? Eliot asks. I say, Yes, I got one. I hold the net closed around the Compass Bug, as Eliot brings the jar over. We transfer it, seal the jar. It's done. The house has not stirred to our noise. What now? I say. Come on, Eliot replies, back to your room. Once there, sitting on the bed, we examine the beetle in its jar. It's beautiful. So orange, and the black cross on its hard casing. We did good, didn't we, Eliot? Yeah, Scribble, real good. He's sitting on my bed, his shirt off, then he lies down, so I can put my hand on his chest. It's hard, all bone. I stroke him gently and he lets me. He smiles. I let my hand move tenderly towards his belt buckle. He was proud of that buckle, it's in the shape of a twisted snake. I start to unwind it…

Shit!

What was that?

Some movement to one side of me, my body being forced away from itself, like a whiplash, and sideways and up and sudden.

The sun comes on.

I'm lying in the field. I'm lying on my back, and Eliot is standing to one side, dragging on his shirt. He's still holding the feather, except its not black any more, it's cream now. A dull cream.

'Fuck!' he says.

What was that?' I ask. 'What happened?'

'Nothing.'

His voice is tight, controlled, on the edge of anger.

'Nothing happened, do you hear me? Nothing!'

'It was a dream. It was like a dream.'

'Yeah, well, it wasn't my fucking dream.'

'Whose dream was it?'

'Shut up!'

'Whose dream was it?'

'Fucking Uncle Slippy! I always knew there was something up with him. Fucking pervert! This never happened, right? This never happened.'

'It never happened.'

I get up. My head is still buzzing with a distant colour. Eliot is already walking away from me. I pick up the net and the jar, to follow him. It's only then that I notice,

'I ought to have you two shot,' says Uncle Slippy. 'Do you know what you're messing with? You are messing with crazy stuff. Fucking kids! I wouldn't mind the stealing, long as you know what you're stealing. You're stealing my fucking pleasures!'

'We brought you the beetle, didn't we?' says Eliot. 'Brought you a Compass Bug.'

I hold up the jar for Slippy to see. He takes it off me.

'Stupid kid!' he cries. 'That's a male. I've got a thousand males. It's the queen I'm after. Males don't find nothing but females. It's the queen that finds the treasure. You won't get nothing off me for this. Nothing!'

'But…'

'You know the rules, do you? You know the rules of Vurt? Everything you take out of there, you have to give something in return. What did you give, eh? What did you give?'

I'm looking at Eliot, but he won't look back at me, he just won't.

'Nothing, Uncle,' he says. Says it quietly.

'Well you did. It's the law. And you'll find out one day, God help you.'

He hands the jar over to Eliot.

We don't see much of each other after that, not for a few weeks anyway, and with school starting and all that. But it's more than that, of course. It's an unspoken thing. I know Eliot is angry at me, like it's my fault. Maybe it is, I'm not sure. When I do bump into him, he's hanging out with lads his own age, and usually this Valerie girl is with him. He puts his arm round her. Kisses her. It's good. I'm glad. Maybe I can start my own growing up now.

One thing I notice, he's still got the Compass Bug with him. It's dead, of course. Beetles don't live very long, do they? He keeps the dead thing in a matchbox. Keeps it in his pocket. He says to me that he's never going to throw it away, not ever. He reckons it's his way forward, his pointer. He says his needle is really spinning now, spinning fit to burst. That's good, as well. That's something. I can understand, or at least, I can say I do.