8. Evening

Memory
*
The Philosophy of the Box
*
Not Really There

It is dark, Sylvia can’t see much, the view is very blurred, she can’t move easily either, her clumsy attempts flail her short, stubby limbs in front of her face. This isn’t her body, not her normal one, not her current one. Sylvia tries to call out, but her untrained lips cannot form the words. Words? She cannot recall words, she isn’t thinking, she is merely acting, re-enacting, like a puppet on a string.

There is shouting; she cannot tell where, two figures, two voices, she recognises both, distantly. The words are muffled, distorted. When she heard them, she didn’t understand, she didn’t pick up the nuances that convey meaning. She still doesn’t understand. The two figures are both looking at something, a third. It looks like a child, except, not a child. The body is of a child, the voice is of a child, but the personality, tone of voice, is not. Amidst the cacophony, three words are constantly repeated. Through repetition, Sylvia has been able to preserve them. “Rebecca”, “Selene” and “shoot”.

There is laughter; one of the figures collapses to the ground, crying out, painfully. She holds up her arms, her hands, not her hands, those are not hands. She cannot hold whatever she is carrying with those hands. There is more shouting, and more manic laughter. The figure without hands looks at the other imploringly, and the other figure reaches for whatever has been dropped, touches it, and cries out in pain. She still has her hands though.

More manic laughter, the face of the figure without hands begins to contort, to warp, and mould itself into something that is not a face. The face Sylvia knew so well is gone. The figure cries out, but the sound becomes muffled, and disappears. The face that is not a face no longer has a mouth for the cries to escape from. The figure gives the other one last look of desperation, from her eyes, the only part that can convey any form of emotion any more, and reaches out for something one the floor. The figure screams at her, but the figure without a face clutches the object with what form there is left, and holds it tight. The other figure shields her eyes.

There is a brilliant white light, dazzling, too bright. Sylvia can see nothing but white. Even after the white has faded, she is still blinded. There is a sound, sharp, loud, a long pause and a cry of relief. The same word is then repeated again and again: “Rebecca, Rebecca? Rebecca!” the sense of urgency, and terror, increases. Sylvia still cannot see. There is another sharp, loud sound, and then silence - Punctuated only by occasional sobs.

Sylvia’s sight begins to return; a figure walks over to her and picks her up. It is not a face she knows well. The face tries to smile at her, and carries her in her arms, up the stairs, out the door, through so many doors, all the same, outside. It is dark out here. They walk for a long time, Sylvia recalls it being a long time, and yet is passes so quickly. The face she doesn’t know well looks at her, and places her down. She pulls out a sheet of paper, and begins to write, holding the paper against the wall of the building as a surface. She finishes, lowers the pen, and folds up the paper, then places it beside Sylvia. She presses the door, there is a sound. She looks once more at Sylvia, smiles, and then walks away.

She shouldn’t walk away, Sylvia is alone, Sylvia opens her mouth to call her back, but her untrained lips cannot form the words that she does not know. Instead, she calls out, making a sound, but not words, imploring her to return, but the figure does not turn around. She cries, louder and louder, the landscape around her distorts, shifts, merges with the common room again. The room is deserted, the box still on, the light outside the windows is darker. She’s still screaming, but she is herself again; fourteen years old, awake, alone.

*

Elliot, having spent the whole day outside wandering round the grounds, finally returns to the main house. He is greeted by the cacophonous discords of Zack at the piano again. Groaning, he opens the door. Inside, Zack is sitting at the piano, playing from the sheet he tore up yesterday. The rearranged pieces have been stuck together with thick yellow tape, and Zack is attempting to play his monstrosity. He sees Elliot come in, he doesn’t hear him, not through the noise, and closes the lid of the piano.

"What's up?" Zack asks

"Oh, not much, just been out for a while" replies Elliot

"What, like OUT out?" Asks Zack excitedly, "or just out?"

"Just out" says Elliot"

"Oh," says Zack, looking a little disappointed.

"So how's life inside the box then?" asks Elliot cheerfully.

"Um...same as it's always has been I guess..." answers Zack, slightly confused by the question. He then remembers the conversation from yesterday and Elliot’s ramblings start to make a little more sense.

"So if it's always been this way, then you've always been inside the box?" says Elliot logically. In Elliot’s opinion, everything is logical, to some degree anyway.

"I suppose so," says Zack, considering the options. If he gives an enthusiastic answer, he’s only going to encourage Elliot’s philosophical ramblings further.

"What's inside the box then? Apart from yourself of course," asks Elliot. Zack looks at Elliot incredulously. He obviously hasn’t grasped the concept of a metaphor yet.

"What kind of a stupid question is that?!” says Zack, losing his temper, “It's a box!" Elliot continues, completely oblivious to Zack’s temper.

"Is the inside of the box beige?" He asks. Zack sighs and gives in, Elliot isn’t going to be deterred that easily.

"...why the inside?" he asks.

"Is the outside of the box beige?" Zack gives Elliot a strange look

"Elliot, what has this got to do with anything?"

"well if neither the inside nor the outside of the box is beige, what part of it is beige?" Zack has to admit, it’s logical, but it’s totally irrelevant, isn’t it? Zack looks at Elliot, who’s waiting apprehensively for an answer. It obviously isn’t irrelevant to Elliot.

"Ok, ok, the outside of the box is beige." He concedes. Anything to get Elliot to be quiet. Elliot continues though with his strange combination of logic and… whatever it is. Zack can only call it blind stupidity

"If you've never been outside the box before, how do you know what colour the outside of the box is?" Zack can see Elliot’s got him in a corner. He decides to change his story, trying to fight your way out of an argumentitive corner against Elliot shouldn’t even be attempted.

"Fine then. I don't know what colour the outside of the box is,” he says “the inside is beige though." Zack adds

"Well if you can see what colour the inside is then there obviously must be a light source of sorts inside the box..." Zack manages to overcome the temptation to slap Elliot and tell him to shut up - just. This is totally logical, to the point of being anal, yet totally irrelevant, and a waste of time.

"Elliot, what are you on about?" Zack asks, completely serious.

"Is there a lamp inside the box?" Elliot asks again.

"No!" Says Zack angrily “It’s a friggin’ box, not a bloody showhome.”

"what's inside the box then?"

"Nothing,” Say Zack stubbornly “there's just me, and the beige colour" Elliot continues, still oblivious to Zack’s temper.

"Right, so if there's no lamp to light the box, the box must have a window, right?" Zack collapses onto the piano stool and looks at Elliot

"Elliot,” he says seriously, “you're weird!" Elliot smiles and continues.

"IS there a window in the box then?" Elliot really isn’t going to let this one go. Zack sighs, he may as well just play along.

"No, there's no window, there's just beige"

"OK,” Elliot looks confused, but not totally lost, like he’s working on some hard problem “if there's no window, how do you know what it looks like outside the box?"

"I don't." elliot looks at Zack and pauses for a few seconds.

"Then why are you trying to break out of it?" he asks, speaking straight to Zack.

"Because it's a damn beige box,” says Zack “and it's dull,” he adds “and I want to get out and explore." Zack always enjoys exploring, so this seems like an appropriate thing to say.

"So you want to get out of the box to go exploring then?"

Elliot apparently still hasn’t grasped the idea of a metaphor.

"Yeah, because I don't want to spend my whole life inside the beige box and never see the rest of the world." Zack can relate to this, staying in the orphanage forever is the last thing he wants to do.

"The rest of the world might be beige too though..." Says Elliot philosophically.

"Well I'd rather get out and find that out rather than never get out and regret never going outside the box." Says Zack defiantly. Yes, leaving the orphanage, even if the world outside is awful, is certainly better than staying inside it forever.

"So you want to get out the box, no matter what." Elliot asks again.

"Yeah." Says Zack resolutely.

"So the inside of the box is beige then?"

Zack raises an eyebrow "We've been through this already..."

"What colour are the walls?" Asks Elliot.

"Is this a competition to see how many stupid questions you can ask relating to a beige box or somethign Elliot?" Zack looks at Elliot, who gives him a disapproving look.

"OK, I dunno,” answers Zack, “beige?" They must be beige… if there’s nothing but the box and the inside of the box is beige…

"I'm not inside the box Zack, don't ask me!" says Elliot.

"Well all I can see is beige.” Answers Zack conclusively. “What does it matter what colour the walls are if everything’s beige?"

"So can you see the box at all?” Asks Elliot, “Or is all you can see this beige colour?" Zack fails to see the distinction between the two statements, or the relevance.

"I just see a lot of beige..." he says, shrugging.

"How can you be sure the box exists at all then?” Says Elliot, launching straight into his comfort zone of Cartesian philosophy, “Maybe the whole world is just beige."

"I know the box exists,” Says Zack boldly “I can touch the edges, there's a barrier stopping me getting out."

"Can you see the box though?" Elliot asks.

"Elliot,” says Zack, losing his temper a third time “who cares whether I can see the damn box or not, it's there.” Zack shoots a look at him indicating the end of the conversation. “Isn't that enough?!"

"Well I was just thinking...” Muses Elliot, “If you're inside a box, but you can't see the box, you're probably not going to be able to see the way out then either are you? I mean that's pretty logical really." Zack slaps his forehead. Elliot still hasn’t got it.

"Elliot, the box doesn't really exist; this is a metaphor, a hypothetical situation." Zack looks at Elliot waiting for him realise and feel foolish. It doesn’t happen.

"So if the box doesn't really exist,” Elliot continues, “it follows that the whole world is beige then?" Zack groans. Elliot’s just a hopeless case.

"Elliot, just stop it."

*

Sylvia is still sitting the empty TV room. The screen is still on, although the sound is down. There are two young people on it, a couple. They’re talking directly to the screen, all smiles, about how they moved to the city to find themselves a new life. They smile, constantly, it’s unnerving, almost like Elliot. Sylvia wonders if everyone smiles like Elliot in the city. She’s never seen the city, but it sounds like a fun kind of place to go. Everyone who talks about it on the box always says it in anyway. Sylvia twists round and props up her cushion properly again. She reaches for the control and mutes the television. Not that muting stops the fixed smiles, but at least it blocks out the sugar-laced dialogue, which quite frankly, is making Sylvia nauseous.

“I was watching that!” Comes Luciel’s voice irritated.

“Well you can continue watching it then, just without the sound,” says Sylvia, “it’s not like they’re going to say anything you haven’t heard before.” Luciel shrugs and continues staring at the box, chuckling every now and then.

“you know when I was there, there is no way in hell a new couple like them could afford a spacious house like that” he says.

“When did you ever go to the city?” Sylvia asks suspiciously.

“Oh, a couple of times recently.” Recounts Luciel, “I lived there when I was younger, but then I’ve lived most places.” He adds. Sylvia rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, whatever Luciel…” She says. Luciel raises an eyebrow.

“What were you screaming about just now then?” He asks curiously.

“It was another memory” Says Sylvia

“Well I gathered that,” Says Luciel, “If it had been anything else I would have been able to interfere.”

“And by interfere” says Sylvia, “You mean get yourself killed due to conspicuous camouflage I assume…” Luciel raises another eyebrow. Sylvia looks at him.

“If you keep raising your eyebrow like that, the wind’s going to change and you’ll be stuck looking like a confused moron for the rest of your life.” Says Sylvia flatly. Luciel laughs.

“you know I haven’t had anyone say that to me in about 15 years” he says.

“Liar,” says Sylvia, pointing out that he’s only 17 years old and he wouldn’t be able to comprehend human speech at the age of two.

“Back to the old debate again I guess,” says Luciel, “So what was this memory about then?”

“It was the time my mother was killed.” Says Sylvia quietly.

“Oh,” says Luciel sympathetically, “I’m sorry.”

“What have you got to be sorry for?” asks Sylvia, “you were probably no more that 5 years old at the time.”

“You know what I mean,” says Luciel, “I offer my condolences or however you’re supposed to put it.”

“That sounded so sincere,” says Sylvia sarcastically, “for a moment there I believed you.” Luciel sighs.

“So what happened then?”

“Well I don’t remember it very well,” says Sylvia, “I think I was about a year old at the time, maybe less, maybe more. I was on the floor in a dark room, it was a huge room, you couldn’t see the walls it was so large. And there were two women in the room, one of them was my mother, I remember the name Selene, so that must have been her. The other woman was called Rebecca I think. Anyway, my mother and Rebecca were watching this child, who wasn’t quite a child…” Sylvia tails off, “It’s confusing, I don’t really get it either, this is just what I remember. Rebecca was yelling ‘shoot!” at mum, and mum must have been holding a gun, but then mum’s hands started to, well, change, I don’t know, she couldn’t hold a gun any more, so dropped it, and she was screaming in pain. And the kid was laughing. Then mum’s face started to change, her mouth disappeared so she couldn’t speak any more, her face just kind of, morphed.” Sylvia tails off again, she can’t think of a way to describe it.

“All the time Rebecca was just standing there, then she tried to pick up the gun mum dropped, but it hurt her hands, and all the while that kid was laughing. mum then dived for something and there was this incredible bright light, I couldn’t see anything for a while, and I heard a sharp, loud sound, I think that was the gun being fired. And then, there was the smell of blood, and a voice, it sounded so relieved, I couldn’t tell whose it was at the time but I suppose it was Selene’s, then there was a pause, then the voice said ‘Rebecca, Rebecca? Rebecca!” Getting all the more terrified, and then there was another gunshot, the smell of blood. I still couldn’t see anything though. When I could finally see again, just one of them was standing, Rebecca, and she was crying. She then picked me up, tried to smile, it was so forced though, more forced even that those couples on TV, and then she carried me all the way here, and just left me on the doorstep, and she turned away and went, and I screamed and screamed so much, but she never came back, I was just left alone.”

Sylvia finished talking. Luciel puts a hand on her shoulder but she pushes it away. “I’m fine,” she says resolutely, “there’s no way I would have wanted to have grown up with her instead anyway. How could I have possibly grown up with the person who murdered my mother?” Luciel just shrugs.

“Sorry” he says.

There is a creak and the door opens, Sylvia looks up, it’s Elliot.

“Sylvia, what are you doing here?” he asks, “Everyone else is at dinner.” He looks at the television. “Why are you watching TV with the sound off?” he asks.

“I wasn’t” Sylvia says, “I was just talking to Luciel, and he still wanted to watch it, but it’s difficult to talk across the voices.” Elliot pauses, and looks round the room for a moment, his eyes pass blankly across Luciel again. Luciel looks up and waves at him again, but Elliot fails to register him.

“Right,” says Elliot, pausing, “Well when you’ve finished your conversation, you’d better come for dinner, the chocolate ice cream is almost out” he says smiling, and leaves the room. Sylvia turns back to Luciel

"Shall we go?" She asks him. Luciel sighs, gets up, and follows Sylvia out the room.

*

Elliot and Zack are sitting opposite Syliva, Luciel is up getting some food. Elliot and Zack are in a heated discussion about what should be their next big project.

"Something else with paint?" Suggests Elliot

"Nah," says Zack, "Paint is so passé, we need something different, something extreme, and yet subtle, something modern..." Zack's eyes light up. "glow in the dark paint!" Elliot raises an eyebrow, Sylvia laughs as she fiddles with her hair. Zack's always coming up with crazy ideas like that, it makes life interesting. Elliot and Zack continues to discuss the merits and problems associated with using glow inthe dark paint as Luciel sits down, plate of spaghetti in frount of him. Elliot and Zack continue chatting animatedly, failing to notice the appearance of a fourth person at the table.

"they're really into it today aren't they?" says Luciel. Sylvia smiles in acknowledgement. The debate continues.

"There is no way Samjays is going to finance the purchase of 10 litres of fluorescent paint unless I give them a detailed account of what I'm actually going to do with it." says Elliot rolling his eyes. He turns to Sylvia.

"Sylvia, you tell him, he'll listen to you." he says. Luciel looks up, Elliot glances in his direction, and Luciel waves. Elliot continues to stare in his direction, then looks away again. Suddenly Zack gets up.

"Right!" he says, "I'm going to look on the internet for cheap fluorescent paint!" he says, and leaves the room. Elliot sighs emphatically and gets up to leave.

"You alright here yourself?" he asks Sylvia.

"Yeah, I'm fine," says Sylvia, "besides, I've got Luciel here keeping me company." Elliot looks blankly at her, looks in Luciel's direction, and then away again.

"Fine," he says, looking a little confused, "See you tomorrow then," he says, and leaves the room.

“I don’t believe it…” Says Luciel, “he did it AGAIN! that's the THIRD TIME TODAY! Is there just something about me that makes this boy totally against recognising my presence? I mean he just blanks me the whole time!” Sylvia laughs, prompting a lot of strange looks from the people surrounding her.

“Oh come on,” she says in a quieter voive, aware she's getting funny looks, “it’s not exactly his fault is it?” Luciel sighs.

“You know,” says Luciel “it’s hard being your invisible friend sometimes.”

“Well I can see you, so technically you’re not invisible,” she says, “I think imaginary friend would be a better term for it.”