Джош Малерман - Inspection

“D.A.D. said so and so it is,” J said. “But who told him ?”

Q laughed. He wrote something down in his notebook.

“D.A.D. is older than us, J,” he said. “More experienced. All it means is that D.A.D. knows more than we do and for him to organize a speech must mean something. I don’t claim to know all the answers, but I do believe we were warned of something today.”

“And what’ll happen to us if we don’t write everything down?” J asked. “What then?”

Q shrugged. “We’ll have to ask him.”

“Oh, come out with it!” D said. He tossed his blue notebook to the carpet. “Just tell us what’s on your mind, J. If you’re not saying he lied today, you’re still trying to say something. ”

J paused. He hadn’t realized how obvious he was being.

“I think…I think I have a disease.”

His brothers looked justifiably surprised.

“What sort?” Q asked, hopping down from the ledge.

“I…don’t know,” J said. “But I don’t think it’s physical. Or…I think it’s invisible.”

“Location!” L said. “J! You definitely need to speak to D.A.D. about that !”

J shook his head. “But I don’t want to do that! And I don’t think Location is what they say it is.”

The others were confused.

“What do you mean?” D asked.

“Are you saying the Parenthood is lying to us, J?” L asked. “Again?”

J could feel his face turning red. He wished it wasn’t.

“Listen, guys,” he said. “Whatever is going on—this…feeling—if it’s Location or if it’s not, it feels… good .”

He looked to D, and D averted his eyes.

“Please,” Q said, “go on.” He spoke like D.A.D. himself, conducting an Inspection. “Tell us what feels good about this confusing, complex, and invisible condition you have.”

“Okay,” J said. He stepped to the window and brought a finger to the condensation. “Here’s the Turret.” He drew a tower. “And here’s a boy.” He drew a boy with long, funny hair. Nobody laughed. “And just like Q said, he wants to locate the Living Trees, the things that birthed us….” He drew a question mark far from the tower. “I’m wondering what’s beyond ourselves.”

“Our minds,” Q clarified.

“Yes! Our minds. I feel as though…” J looked to the ceiling, then out the window. “I feel as though someone is splitting the pines up here.” He pointed to his head. “And through them, I’m seeing something new. Only…only…”

“Only you don’t know what it is yet,” Q said. “That’s exactly the kind of thing you ought to write down. D.A.D. will adore that.”

“This is all making me uncomfortable,” L said. He got up off the couch. “And I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He walked to the door. “I’m off to study. If you guys find yourselves talking about less dangerous things, please let me know. Also, you, J.” He pointed two fingers at J. “You need to talk to D.A.D. right away about any…invisible problem you’re having!”

Then L was out of the room. The door closed behind him.

Q rolled his eyes and said, “L has never been much of a trailblazer. If our talks are getting too advanced for him, well…maybe he’ll like his new floor mates better.”

“Ugh,” D said. “Sounds awful. ”

“I’m worried that it’ll show in the next Inspection,” J said. “Nobody’s ever failed an Inspection before.”

“ Failed an Inspection?” Q echoed. “Don’t you think you’re being a little…hasty? You’re experiencing new thoughts, just like D.A.D. told us we would. He told us so today. Seriously, don’t give yourself nightmares over it.”

J looked at him quickly, his eyes wide.

“Nightmares,” he said. “I’ve…I’ve…”

He almost told him, almost told them both. The figure behind Mister Tree.

“Why don’t we take a walk through the Orchard?” Q asked, obviously changing the subject for J’s sake. “A nice snowy walk might do us some good.”

“Maybe you’ll find the Living Trees,” D said.

Q shrugged.

“You’re humoring me, but…maybe. Maybe I will. Maybe we will. Either way, I’m putting it in the notebook. And don’t worry so much, D. Truly. Change is good . I imagine it might even be fun.”

“A walk sounds good,” J said. “You in, D?”

D looked to the notebook on the floor.

“Sure, but I’m not bringing that with me. It already feels like an invader. Like it can read my mind.”

The boys knew he was referencing Luxley’s The Invaders , the story of a quiet staff member of the Parenthood who clearly wanted what was worst for the boys.

“It’s supposed to,” Q said, crossing the room. “That’s exactly what it’s supposed to do.” He opened the door. “I’ll grab my coat, be right back.”

Then Q was out the door and J and D were left alone. J went to the front closet and removed his blue-plaid winter coat with the lamb’s fur collar. He’d got it as a gift from D.A.D. All the Alphabet Boys had received the same for their communal birthday, January 1.

“We’re growing,” J said, trying to limit the new, frightening feeling.

“Think so? I don’t.”

“Oh, come on. I don’t know how much of this I can handle in one day.”

“I think that, whatever we’re feeling, it’s going to go on for a lot longer than one day,” D said.

J looked to him. It was clear to them both that they’d shared something over the course of the post-breakfast conversation.

“In any event,” J said, opening the door, “D.A.D. may as well have been speaking directly to me. He knows something new is happening inside of us.”

“Sure,” D said, following J into the hall. Above them, the silver Inspection speaker stood inert, not to be heard from again until tomorrow morning, when a new day’s Inspection would be announced. “But one thing about it is bothering me.”

“What’s that?” J asked.

“The feeling that D.A.D. wanted us to talk about these very things upon returning to our rooms.”

“What do you mean? Why does that bother you?”

D took J by the arm, stopped him in the hall. Behind them, the Check-Up door reflected the dull overhead lights.

“He’s always a step ahead of us. Always. Like he knows we’re worried before we have anything to worry about. Like he knows we’re laughing before a joke has been told. And doesn’t that bother you? Is everything so…preordained? Are we so obvious? It bothers me. I want to have my own thoughts, J. Is that so wrong? And I’m certainly not going to do that by writing them all down in that little blue book.”

“This one?” Q had snuck up behind them. He held D’s notebook between two fingers.

“Hey!” D said. “I left that in J’s room! How’d you—”

Q slapped him on the shoulder.

“I’m stealthy. I’m fast. You know that. Now go get your coat, nitwit, and let’s take a walk. L, too. And if you feel like writing anything down? Do it. And if you don’t? Write that down, too.”

The windows of Richard’s first-floor quarters acted as a two-way mirror, but not in the traditional way. Rather, to those standing outside, the Yard was reflected in the glass, but a hint of a large photograph of an empty apartment could be seen behind it. For this, none of the Alphabet Boys ever saw their D.A.D. as he stood watching from within, often wearing nothing more than a bathrobe. Today, as he watched Q, J, D, and L tramp across the snowy Yard, headed for the Orchard, he wore the tank top that he’d sweated through while giving his speech. He’d sweated more since then, after receiving Gordon’s report on his meeting with Warren Bratt.