Concrete Island

by J. Roger Baker

When he found the first one, Simon didn't tell anybody. He tucked it away in the pocket of his dark grey overall suit and joined the other children who were drawing maps in the sand. That night, while his mother wasn't looking, he slipped it under his pillow. Jane kissed him good night and closed the door. As the light slowly dimmed to a sleep-inducing dark blue, he sat up and, leaning on one chubby arm, examined his discovery.

It was most interesting: soft without being squashy; bendy but with no spring to it; a beautiful new colour, and the scent was strange. He sniffed it again, it made him feel deeply uneasy somewhere inside. It reminded him of something, but he couldn't remember what. At five you don't worry overmuch about things like that and sleep comes quickly.

The next day its colour was darker, almost black. It got nasty and squashy later, so Simon threw it away and went to look for another.

After kicking about in the sand-pit for a while, he dodged across the paved playing area and down the vertical, white-painted ladder that led to the lower level. This was forbidden territory for the children. The sun was very hot.

He was standing on a triangular platform, two sides of which were walled — the short wall he'd just climbed down and a much higher windowless one. The third side ended with a precipitous drop to the twenty-four-stream motorway below.

Looking round to make sure no one had followed, Simon made for the acute angle where the walls joined. They didn't quite meet at first, and there was just enough room for a small boy to creep between them for a little way.

„Simon, darling, what ever have you got there?“ Jane asked, when he came in dusty and panting for his midday nourishment.

„Oh, nothing much, Mummy,“ he said. But his actions so clearly denied this that Jane laughed. He kept one hand behind his back and was walking sideways towards his room.

She bent down, bringing her face close to his. „Come along, young man,“ she coaxed, „show Mummy what you've got.“

Very reluctantly he brought his arm from behind his back and, holding out his hand, opened the fist.

For a long moment she stared at the thing lying in his palm.

Finally she spoke. „Where did you find it?“ she asked, hoping that Simon wouldn't see that she was pale and trembling, trying to keep her voice steady.

Simon looked sheepish. His mother would be cross if he confessed he had gone down to the forbidden lower level so near the big drop to the motorway. „Oh, out there,“ he said casually.

„I see. Would you like to show Daddy where you found it?“

Simon burst into tears. „Don't be cross, Mummy. Please.“

Suddenly she put both arms round him, tightly. „I'm not cross, darling. Don't worry about it any more.“ Her own tears fell on to his bright swirl of hair. „Go and wash your hands,“ she said briskly, drawing away and turning towards the window so that Simon could not see her glistening cheeks.

She looked at the thing again, now in her own hand. It lay across her palm like a cruel slash on the map of its creases. Her first impulse was to throw it away, put it into the refuse disposer, let it be ground to dust with the cans and cartons. But she knew that to hide such a discovery was a capital crime. The Authority was strict on this. She decided to leave a decision until Robert came home. She stood motionless, looking out of the window.

The flat was not, comparatively speaking, high; just thirty-two floors up. Far below, the wide motorway ribboned by, carrying traffic on a nonstop journey from the north of Scotland to the shores of the Mediterranean. Under the glaring sun it was like a band of light cutting down through England, leaping over the channel, bisecting France, where it was joined by similar routes from Scandinavia, Russia, and Spain.

It was bright outside, even through the dark glasses that were compulsory for everyone. As far as she could see, the light bounced from square glittering blocks: flats, offices, factories, some glass-walled. In between were the shopping levels, connected by graceful bridges or flights of steps to play levels, sport levels, and unused patches all paved with pink slabs. In the playing areas were shining sand-pits — fine-grained silvery sand — and swimming pools lined with glossy blue tiles.

This was England from coast to coast, a concrete island. Even the swollen hills of Wales and Scotland had been tamed into squares, angles, and cubes by rearing sky-scrapers, concrete, and glass. This was Europe.

„What shall you do with it, Mummy?“

Jane broke from her reverie to see Simon standing beside her.

„Well, I think we'll put it on this shelf for Daddy to see when he comes home from work.“ She made an effort to speak lightly, as if he had merely found an odd-shaped piece of metal or unusually-coloured chip of glass. One thing she had to find out, though.

She drew a tumbler of water and dissolved a large spoonful of white powder in it. As Simon drank the milk, she asked him casually, „Did you show it to anyone else, dear?“

„Oh no. It's my secret. My secret,“ he repeated, pleased that Mummy was more interested in the thing than where he'd found it. He added confidently, „That's three I've found.“

Her stomach contracted in another spasm of fear. „The third! What did you do with the others?“ Her mind raced; supposing he had left them lying about, in the lift, the sandpit, floating in the pool.

„I threw them away. They got nasty after a bit. They went in that grinding thing.“ He paused thoughtfully. „It was funny,“ he went on, „the first one went all black and squashy, but the other one got yellowish and dry. What are they, Mum?“

„I don't know, Simon. Perhaps Daddy will tell us,“ she said quickly, lest he divine her tension. „Now run along and have a swim. But come in before the rain,“ she added. During the hot months of summer, the operatives at the Ministry of Weather arranged for a two-hour rain shower from six to eight each evening to clean the miles of concrete and freshen the atmosphere.

Simon scudded out, swinging his little towel. He loved swimming and was quite capable of using the deeper pool designed for adults.

Jane looked again at the thing Simon had brought in so innocently. If he really hadn't mentioned it to anyone, they might yet escape The Authority.

One of Simon's conversations with his father came back to her. The boy was very bright and his questions were endless, making Robert proud.

„Daddy — what do you mean when you say something blossoms?“

„Turns from being plain and ordinary into something pretty,“ he explained.

„It's a funny word, Daddy,“ Simon persisted. „Where does it come from?“ Simon always asked where words came from, ever since Robert had told him that the tall buildings around were called sky-scrapers because when they were first built hundreds of years ago people thought they really did touch the sky.

Robert looked away; he had to say he didn't know, which he always hated doing. „I wish he'd ask about something straightforward like sex,“ he complained later to Jane. They laughed. Now the joke was springing back.

Robert came home hot and tired. He worked in the lower strata of the Science Ministry, which meant he shared a room with thirty-nine others high up in a glass-fronted building. The higher one rose status-wise the lower, cooler, and more shaded one's room was.

Jane dropped a dark brown pill into a tumbler of water; it quickly fizzed into a pale-coloured beer. Robert drank gratefully, mopping his face.

Jane knew that any sort of preamble would be useless and irritating, so she simply took the thing from the shelf and held it out to Robert. „Simon found this.“

Robert stared and slowly took it. „Oh no… not Simon,“ he murmured quietly, „but where… how?“

„I don't know. I didn't ask him.“ Her fear began to surface making her snappy, making her pace about. „I didn't want to frighten him.“

Automatically Robert sipped his beer. „What are we going to do?“ Jane asked quietly, breaking the long silence.

„Does anyone else know about this?“

„I don't think so. He said not, anyway.“

„Good… good. Then perhaps we can risk ignoring it. I must think.“

They drew closer together.

The others had gone. Only Simon and Sammy Probick were left at the pool.

„Well, maybe you can go faster than me,“ said Sammy spitefully,drawing himself out of the water some seconds after Simon. They had been racing. „But I bet you daren't go down there.“ He pointed dramatically towards the steps that led down to the lower level.

„Been down lots of times,“ Simon replied, looking superior.

„I mean by yourself.“

„I have been down by myself, lots of times.“ Seeing the other's disbelieving expression, Simon went further. „And I found something down there that you don't know about. Something secret.“

„Hugh! What?“

„Shan't tell you.“

„No, 'cos there isn't any secret. And you haven't been down there.“

„Yes, I have, I have,“ Simon stamped.

„Let's see you go down there then.“ Simon hesitated, and Sammy Probick pressed his advantage, „I dare you.“

The unavoidable challenge.

„But I don't understand. What possible harm could it do — and to a little boy like that?“ Jane complained.

''From the point of view of The Authority it could lead to the tapping of subconscious memories, remind people of the things they have been bred to forget, breed discontent,“ Robert said.

„But even I can't remember seeing one of those things before, so I don't see how Simon possibly could.“

„Yes, my dearest Jane“ — Robert put his arm round her narrow shoulders — „but you do guess what it is, don't you?“

„Well, I think I know.“

„Simon doesn't. And that's the idea. To breed a generation that knows nothing of what it was like before“ — he gestured towards the endless army of buildings outside — „before all this. Not only is it economically impossible to let things like this“ — he picked up the thing — „multiply, but if people saw them their memories would be jolted, it could lead to madness, to anarchy.“

„You're exaggerating. I'm sure it couldn't do so much harm.“

He put his hands on her arms and turned her towards him.

„Look, Jane, you know how people see visions when they have been deprived of water for too long — mirages of fountains and pools — well, can you imagine a whole population behaving like that once their memory has been sharpened into remembering something they have been trained to do without? That’s why The Authority is so stern, so… unyielding.“ His voice shook.

„I suppose so. But only we know about it, so it'll be all right, won't it? Won't it, Robert?“

„Of course,“ he said slowly, „the source must be destroyed. I shall have to get Simon to show me where it comes from and do it myself. If we leave it too long, it will be too late — especially after this evening's rain.“

„We'll go together,“ Jane said. She started preparing their meal.

„But remember,“ Robert added, „if Simon has told anyone, we must expect… callers…“

Mrs. Probick stood at the top of the steps, a towering figure in her bulky black trousers.

„What are you doing down there, you little monkey?“ she shouted, her voice coarse and loud.

Sammy started wailing at once. „It was him,“ he cried, „he made me.“ Simon came into view, emerging apparently from the angle between the walls.

All Mrs. Probick's jealousy of Jane and Robert flared. Robert was more intelligent than her husband and had a better job which entitled him to a lower flat and to more holidays.

„You just wait. I’ll tell your mother,“ she shouted, dragging her own son up the last few steps. Simon climbed up slowly, carrying something in his fist.

„And what have you got there..?“ The woman started and then realised what it must be. „Sammy, come here,“ she screamed, horror in her voice. „I don't want you ever to go near that nasty little boy again.“

She backed away, pulling Sammy with her protectively, „I'll have to let someone know about this,“ she murmured, the anger in her voice and eyes instantly replaced by apprehension and fright…

Robert hated letting Simon know he couldn't answer any of his questions. His job, petty though it was, gave him a reputation even among his adult friends, for a wide range of knowledge.

„But, Daddy, it's got such a funny smell too,“ Simon was saying. „It makes me think of something. But I don't know what.“ Seeing his parents' expression, „Something nice, though,“ he added reassuringly.

„You see,“ Robert whispered to Jane. She nodded.

„Simon, I want you to try to forget all about it after you've shown me where you found it. Then I want you to promise us faithfully that you will never go there again, or touch one any more. And if you do find another you must tell us straight away.“ Robert spoke kindly, but firmly.

„All right, Daddy,“ Simon agreed trustingly. „Mrs. Probick was ever so cross when she saw it this afternoon.“ He yawned, ready for bed.

Jane gripped Robert's hand beneath the table. „Not Mrs. Probick.“

„Did you show her?“ Robert demanded, more sharply than he had intended.

Simon realised something was very wrong. His bottom lip trembled. Hesitatingly, he explained what had happened. „I didn't even have a chance to show it to Sammy,“ he whimpered at the end of his recital.

The rain came, thundering on the roofs and roads.

„Get along to bed, Simon,“ said Robert gently. The little boy went out miserably.

„This is it then, Jane,“ said Robert, going to her. „We should have reported it at once. Delay has made it much worse.“

„Couldn't we… couldn't we pretend nothing has happened?“ sobbed Jane. „We'll say it is just spite from that woman. She's always been jealous.“

„The Authority knows well — and so do we, my love — that people don't use things of this nature just for spite. It's far too serious. Why, the woman is probably genuinely terrified and regards it as her duty to report it as she would a fatal accident, or a murder.“

„What will happen?“ Jane's voice was scarcely audible above the hiss of the rain. „They won't take him away…?“

Robert thought for a moment. „Obviously they won't allow him to stay here, mixing with the other children. Perhaps they will take him away for only a short time — for what they call a… a Cure. That is if they are kind. Otherwise he — he becomes an exile.“

„Then we will go with him, wherever it is, whatever it may mean for us.“

Through the rain they saw far below a long black transporter hover above the courtyard of their block and settle on the pavement, now gleaming dark pink. Four men, foreshortened shapes, got out. With them they could see the squat figure of Mrs. Probick. She was pointing.

Together they went in to Simon. He looked at them nervously over the sheet but, seeing them both smiling down, he relaxed. Jane kissed him.

„Daddy?“ he murmured sleepily, „what's a monkey?“ Jane turned away.

„I'll tell you in the morning,“ Robert whispered, bending to kiss him good night. They went out, closing the door quietly.

The bell buzzed sharply. Robert turned. „We mustn't pretend, Jane. Put the thing on the table. It's better that way.“ He paused. „They might be kind,“ he said, going to open the front door.

Outside the rain streamed down, a scientific cleansing operation; there was no vegetation on the concrete island to need its nourishment. Jane went to the shelf and with a shudder put the long green blade of grass on the table.

Content

Concrete Island
by J. Roger Baker