Twenty Four, 7 April
I will take you to her
Dronikus, a novel set on a burning planet called Earth.
Nur
Zola sat in an armchair by the bay window looking out over the extensive estate gardens and beyond that to the sea. A gigantic, almost transparent, climate-control dome stretched above the gardens down to the perimeter wall. He could see security rators in their black uniforms standing at intervals along the perimeter, while others patrolled the gardens, at once unobtrusive and yet quite visible.
He wore pyjamas and a dressing gown; the cannula had gone from his arm. His face was unshaven, stubble poking through the Lumpyface. Arno was behind him in the main section of the bedroom changing the sheets on the bed.
Patricia entered. She took his temperature and measured his pulse. ‘Feeling good today?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘What are they giving me?’ His voice was low, his mood sombre.
‘Just basic anti-depressants now, to hold off the panic.’ He looked at her. ‘And it seems to be working. It’s been days now. You haven’t had any major attack since…’
‘Since puking all over my brother?’
She pursed her lips. ‘Well, I don’t know if I’d call that a panic attack.’ She stood leaning back against the low curved wall supporting the bay window. ‘But it must have ruined the suit.’ She allowed herself a small smile.
‘Yep.’ He also smiled.
‘I love this window,’ said Patricia, ‘I often stand here just looking out across this wonderful garden and that sea.’
Her light heartedness was infectious. Zola said, ‘this used to be my bedroom when I was a child.’
‘This was your bedroom?’
Zola was making an effort. ‘I used to imagine that this was the whole world, and that the sea went to the edge and that if you went there you would fall off.’
They both looked out across the green to the blue in the distance.
Late one night Zola lay on his side in the bed, watching televised junk on the monitor. The light in the room was low and the volume almost down to zero.
Arno was standing in its customary position when, for no apparent reason, it began to fold down on itself, its torso sinking between its legs and its head doubling over to fit in next to the torso. A small light flashed, the mechanism whirred and clicked once and was silent. It had folded down into the shape of a box, about the size of a bar stool.
Zola turned and looked up at the mechanical sounds from the corner. The television screen went blank. The door opened and a masked figure entered.
‘Hello Zola.’
‘Nur?’ Her voice was unmistakable. ‘No, don’t come in please!’
Ignoring him she entered and, using a device she held in her hand, scanned the room.
‘Please leave,’ said Zola.
When she was satisfied that no other surveillance devices were present, she walked deeper into the room, taking off the hoodie cloak. She stopped at the bed and looked down at him in the semi-darkness.
Zola turned his back to her and faced the screen. ‘Television on,’ he commanded. Nothing happened.
‘I’ve disabled it, and the rator, as you can see. We can talk freely,’ she said. ‘Can I have a drink?’ Without waiting for a reply, she went across to a concealed cabinet, opened it and poured herself a drink. She sat on the corner of the bed. Zola stared at the blank screen on the wall.
‘We had the best times in this room, didn’t we? Looking back now, it was the best time of my life, actually.’ She smiled and took a few eager sips of her drink. ‘I am married to Meriti, you know that, huh?’ Each sentence came slowly; he lay unmoving.
‘Please go,’ said Zola, in a harsh whisper.
She finished her drink and went back to the cabinet and poured another. She remained standing, sipping her glass. ‘Zola, stop acting like a petulant child. Just talk to me.’ After another long silence she walked back to the bed and resumed her place on the corner.
‘I can’t tell you just how glad I am to see you. Really, Zola. I know that things might not have ended on a good note between us, but all I can say is that I’ve missed you. Many times I insisted that they bring you back from the island, but, of course, Enrike took no notice of me.’ Zola said nothing. ‘In the early days, soon after all that shit went down, I realised that I had ended up on the wrong side of the family. You and Leilu were…’
Zola made a loud angry grunt, cutting her off, before spitting out her name: ‘Nur!’
‘She’s still alive. Did you know?’ He said nothing. ‘Zola for fuck’s sake. I know where she is. They will say that they will take you to her, but they won’t. They’re too scared, scared of what you will do. But I will take you to her, Zola.’
‘Nur.’ His voice softened; he held back his anger. ‘I’m asking you politely. Please, would you leave me?’ He turned to her for the first time and for the first time she saw his face in the light.
‘What!’ She was aghast, ‘what did they do to your face? The unconscionable brutes! By what right do they think…?’ She stared at him.
‘It’s nothing.’
‘Nothing? Oh my, oh, oh, oh. How could they do that to you?’
‘Just go, Nur! Go!’ He screamed. ‘Go! Go!’
Patricia came hurrying in.
‘Who did this to him?’ Nur pointed at Zola. ‘Was it them?’ She gestured vaguely towards the door.
‘What do you mean?’
‘The face, stupid, his face has been…’
‘It’s a Lumpyface. He came here with it.’
‘What?’ Nur moved closer to inspect Zola’s face. He turned away from her.
‘Lumpyface? How could they?’
‘It can come off,’ said Patricia.
‘Well then take it off.’
‘No, it has to be done by a doctor.’
‘Well, that must happen. I’ll make sure of that.’ Without a backward glance at Zola, she stormed from the room, not bothering with the mask.
Dronikus is a novel published in 2023, now being serialised here on Substack. You can read a chapter every week for free.
Liking what you’re reading? Don’t want to wait to see what happens next? You can read the full book now by purchasing a digital or print copy of Dronikus from:
AndAlso Books (print edition)
Amazon (epub), Smashwords (epub), Apple Books (epub), Barnes&Noble (epub)
Note from Marko Newman: Hi Dronikus readers. I hope that you are liking what you are reading. There is still a fair way to go in the story with many twists and turns to come.
For those who are joining the story I highly recommend you take the time to peruse earlier chapters to give you a bit of a lead-in to the story.
I suggest:
Chapters 1 to 3, 7, 9 and 12:
I have a favour to ask all readers: please forward the story (any episode) to anyone who you think may like this short weekly hit of fiction reading. Suggest that if they like it they could subscribe to the weekly post. Emphasise that it is free and that one can unsubscribe with one click.
Also, I’m keen to hear any comments or questions or thoughts you may have. My email is: markonewman@icloud.com
Cheers, Marko