Hayward - Filaria

For my family growing up, and for my family now.

Thanks to Bob Boyczuk and Peter Watts for their help with the manuscript. Specialthanks to Brett Alexander Savory for his editing prowess. Produced with the supportof the city of Toronto through the Toronto Arts Council.

Babar finally dropped off to sleep, but his sleep wasrestless and soon he dreamed: He heard a knockingon his door. Tap! Tap! Then a voice said: It is I,Misfortune, with some of my companions, cometo pay you a visit.

Jean de Brunhoff, Babar the King

What, shell say, no little bones in your mouth?And you have the impertinence to love me? Getout, you wretch, and heres a kick to help you onyour way!

Albert Cohen, Belles du Seigneur

Shotgun, eagle-eyed, Young Phister spotted the power outlet, justahead, mounted on the wall nearest him. Yet travelling this strange,vaulted hallway with McCreedy, he did not immediately recognizethe outlet as such and said nothing as the car trundled toward it,nor as the car passed it, but when he could no longer deny what hewas now looking back at, he managed to whistle low and point along finger over his shoulder; hunched at the wheel, McCreedycould not (or would not) see the receding outlet, even with Phistergesticulating and saying in hushed tones, There. Right there. Look!McCreedy, I swear.

The type of hall might have been almost familiar but neitherman had been down this particular stretch before, despiteMcCreedys assurances over the past few hours that now he knewwhere they were. Possibly, Phister thought, no man had traversedthese halls since genesis. Power outlets were located near old servicecentres, or sometimes directly under those smooth, glassy portionsof the ceiling, forever matte and dark, like trapped rectangles ofnight. Outside doorways, too, especially ones marked with yellowand black stripes. Always on the drivers side. Located in odd placeshere? Did that have special meaning, offer clues? Any portent?

Sleeping in the car had been cold and uncomfortable. No food,and water dwindling. Dearth of canteens full scale or standalone had been the first sign things would be different.

Theyd started out once more when daylights came on. McCreedyhad told him all morning they were headed home while Phister grewincreasingly sure they were getting more hopelessly lost. ThoughPhister had no sense of direction. He admitted that. Hallways openedwhere previously there had been none. Rooms vanished overnight.Walls materialized as he turned his back, shifting positions in theperiphery.

Now, seeing the outlet here, on the passengers side, in an openstretch of this oddly vaulted hallway, in which no one might everhave set foot, thoughts of chaos and insecurities back home andin his own mind managed to bring little comfort.

McCreedy, Im telling you, stop if you want to fill this thing.

Between stained dark lips, opening slowly for they weresealed with gummy saliva McCreedys wet voice, at last, assenting:Youre the eyes. I dont see fuck all but what do I know? Shut you up,well stop.

So they stopped.

Reversing, a long, smooth arc, brought the wall on Phisters sidecloser. Rubber tires crunched lightly over dusty flags.

There, Phister said, pointing again. See?

Square, black, showing signs of polish through the grey clinginggrowth and marked down one side with copper script: clearly anoutlet. Overgrown, unused for centuries, perhaps, or never, butfor all appearances the same as others mounted in more familiarlocations, back home.

The car was near exhausted. It had another hour or two left, atmost. Phister suspected that old man McCreedy would have kept ondriving until the vehicle ran out of juice, then got out and walked,then crawled, claiming until they both collapsed dead that he knewall the while where they were headed, home was just up ahead.

Well reach a junction soon, he said, as the car idled. Iremember. I was here as a kid. We take a left and come out at an airskirt, down a back hall for a few klicks and emerge in the secondarypipe room. Then home. Gesturing with a slow sweep of his hand,meant to reassure, but Phister imagined the two of them lost forever.He pictured his own grisly corpse.

In the tiled gutter on the other side of the hall a small creaturescurried. Young Phister kept his keen eyes peeled. Some of the olderfolks said that, like Reena. Keep them eagle eyes peeled, shed say. Youwas born with good peepers. He wished Reena were here with themnow. She would know what to do.

McCreedy motioned with his chin but Young Phister was alreadyclimbing down to unravel the plug from its stand. Winding the cordaround his forearm and fumbling with the plughead against thecool power plate, he felt like a child again, helpless against lurkingmonsters, waiting in shadows to slash out and take him down, bloody,at the knees. He looked both ways before starting to scrape lichenand the deposits of time from the contacts with a gnawed thumbnail.How far did the world extend anyhow? Hallways and more of thesedeserted hallways, changing subtly, going on forever?

A mist of sorts lingered over the flags and a dank smell taintedthe air, one he had not perceived seated in the car. Light was a littlemore yellow than he had grown up under, a flickering, sickly glow.Perhaps conduits had broken in the vicinity, long ago. Humidity wascloying and had damaged the ceiling.

... charging...

The cars whisper startled Phister. The outlet was live, at least.Contact had been made between the plug and the plate. Not manyoutlets enabled the car to talk

Phister looked up. He thought he had heard something else,aside from the vehicles weak voice. Something out there. He took adeep breath.

He tried to stop conjuring threats to his life but as a kid thosemonsters had filled his cold-sweat dreams. Now, as a man of sixteen,they were hard to shake.

He saw no source of the sound.

He did not hear it again.

The car, meanwhile, had reached sufficient power to addressthem: Sirs, it began, as it always did, when it had these opportunities,my need of a tune-up and overhaul is dire. I implore you to seekthe nearest member of MMG. You are if I may be so bold grosslyabusing a vehicle belonging to the Department of Public Works.

Are you ill-trained staff? Rogue guests? My i.d. reader seemsto have been disabled. Renegades? Or perhaps theres a problemwith your comprehension? Complaints have been logged with mysupervisor. I assure you, as soon as network links are restored, youwill hear about this. If you are staff, your departmental budget willbe charged. You will be suspended, pending a hearing. And if youturn out to be guests, youll be apprehended, incarcerated, and quitepossibly evicted...

Do your parents know where you are?

With a ghost of a grin Young Phister glanced at McCreedy, butthe taciturn expression on the older mans face staring forward,jaw thrust from under his mouldy cap made Phister doubtwhether the driver had even heard the cars rant. Beyond ironic, hethought, to end up like this, with a miserable old man Ive neverliked, hopelessly lost in hostile halls, driving to our mutual demise.

Nausea flickered in the abyss of Phisters empty stomach, while,on the dashboard, the little battery icon, half-full, flashed steadily.

The car, having said its piece, waited.

McCreedy took some dried moss from an inside pocket of hisvest, pushed it into his maw, and chewed. He offered none to YoungPhister. The driver was an addict. A damn addict. Phister liked thestuff, sure, but he didnt have a problem like McCreedys: he couldstop any time. He watched McCreedys mouth moving, watched theold man squint and nod to himself, and mumble. All Phister wantedto hear now was the old man admitting, before they both died, thathe, McCreedy, had no clue where they were and never had.