Impossible Dreamers

Chapter 51 (quetwi-mek): The permit

Liana wanted to tell Silmoa one of the funny stories that she had read in the book in her dreams, but now that she was awake, she could only remember one of them.

'Silmoa, let me tell you about a man I knew,' Liana said.

'Which man?'

'It doesn't matter,' said Liana, impatiently.

'Was he a Barty or a Grabbler?'

'I don't know. It doesn't matter. Anyway...'

'What do you mean, it doesn't matter? It makes a big difference, surely,' said Silmoa.

'All right, he was a Seren-ilian. No, actually he was a Barty.' This wasn't going as Liana had hoped.

'Seems a strange thing to forget,' said Silmoa.

'He was just a man,' said Liana, insistently. 'Please let me tell you the story about him!'

'All right. What about him?'

'Well, every night, he used to snore so loudly that he woke himself up.'

'Oh, that's a shame,' said Silmoa.

'So he decided the best thing to do ...' Liana paused, ready to say the last bit, the bit that would make Silmoa laugh.

'Yes?' said Silmoa, expectantly.

'He decided to sleep in the next room.'

Liana remembered reading the line, and being unable to stop herself laughing in her dream. She expected Silmoa to do the same, but she remained silent.

Eventually, Silmoa spoke. 'What do you mean?' she said. 'How could he do that?'

'He couldn't. That's the point of the story.'

'When did this happen?' said Silmoa.

'It didn't happen. It's a story. A story to make you laugh,' said Liana.

'Well, it hasn't made me laugh. Why are you telling me about things that couldn't happen? It's as bad as Herago's Impossibles.'

Liana realised that these sort of stories needed more careful work, if they were going to make anybody laugh.

But there was something she could tell Silmoa that might make things a bit better.

Later on, they were walking to the factory.

'Silmoa,' Liana said.

'What is it?' said Silmoa.

'You were worried about the Bartys being able to use the thought scanner,' said Liana.

'Of course I was. We all are. Don't talk about it, you'll only make things worse.'

'No, it's all right. You don't have to worry about that. The thought-scanners in ... the thought scanners here are blocked. They can't read our minds.'

Silmoa turned her face and looked at her. Liana wasn't sure whether the look on her face was one of pity or anger.

'Have they got to you, Liana? Are you trying to get me to think something I shouldn't?'

'No,' said Liana. 'I just thought you would want to know.'

'And how do you know?' asked Silmoa.

Liana didn't know what to say. She couldn't tell Silmoa that she had been told by somebody in a dream. That just sounded crazy.

'I... I just heard it somewhere. I heard some of the Bartys talking in the unit where I pack the boxes. They didn't think I could hear, but I did, and understood exactly what they were saying. The thing that carries our thoughts through the air is blocked, apparently.' She could see that Silmoa wasn't convinced.

'Don't be so silly,' Silmoa said, angrily. 'What do you know about it anyway? What "thing that carries thoughts"? Either someone has been tricking you, or ...' Silmoa stopped and looked at Liana closely. The look made Liana feel uncomfortable and sad. What did Silmoa think about her? 'Anyway, stop talking about it,' Silmoa said, finally.

So now, perhaps Silmoa thought Liana was trying to trick her into having thoughts that would get her into trouble. Liana had made things worse.

When they got to the factory, Liana was split up from Silmoa.

Her work in the packing area was easier and less tiring than the work on the line had been. And the people in charge, though they were Bartys, seemed a little friendlier than the people on the moving line. There was no shocking stick here, and people actually spoke to her in a polite way – not giving her orders, but asking her if she could do this or that. Of course, she could never say no, but it was much more pleasant to be asked.

Towards the end of the day, when all the boxes had been packed, and there was no more coming from the making-line, the supervisor, Mant, told her that she would need to take a pile of boxes to the dropoff place. This was where they would be picked up from that evening, to be taken to Tyropolis. She should go straight there, and come straight back. Mant explained the way, and even drew a little map for her. It felt very odd that he, who had just arrived in Seren-ila, should be explaining the way around to Liana, who had lived there all her life. But he meant it kindly.

She saw from the map that the drop-off place was very near the dormitory that Herago was staying at, close to what used to be Middle Meadow. It would be good to get some fresh air, Liana thought. She had to carry a special permit, to show that even though she was a Grabbler, she was allowed out. It was just a bit of paper with the name of the supervisor on it, and some special wording and lettering that Bartys liked to use, to show how important and clever they were. 'The holder of this permit, Ling Grabbler' (every Seren-ilian had the last name 'Grabbler' as far as the Bartys were concerned) 'is hereby permitted to be at large on the streets of Grabble Town, for the purpose of work commanded under the authority of Tyro Tyrannosus Rex III, Keeper of the still stars and of the Flaming Firmament. Signed:' then there was a squiggle, which didn't look like Mant's name, but she supposed that was what it was meant to be.

Liana studied the permit carefully. She was intrigued by Barty writing, which was much more elaborate and decorated than the writing of Seren-ilians. In general, the Bartys didn't go in all that much for decoration, except where they wanted to make their writing impressive. She studied the patterns closely, so much so that Mant shouted that she should stop looking at her permit, and get out there to the dropoff place, otherwise the collection would be missed.

Out on the street, Liana hurried to the place. It was difficult, as she had Twil boxes to carry, and they were heavy and hard to handle. She couldn't risk dropping them, as if anything got broken she would certainly be punished. She had to stop once, when a Guardian asked to see her permit, but he just glanced at it as she held it out to him, and waved her on.

Reaching the drop-off place, she suddenly realised where she was. It was the same place she had been to in her dreams so many times. This was exactly where the House of the Green Jewel had stood. Liana began to feel tears come to her eyes, but she managed to stop them. She couldn't be seen to be crying, and anyway, she wouldn't be able to wipe her eyes while she carried these boxes. She decided that she wouldn't let anything the Bartys had done make her cry.

The House of the Green Jewel was now a big square building, full of boxes of different sizes. Liana quickly went inside. She was asked to show her permit, then she was given another piece of paper to carry, this one confirming that she had dropped off the boxes. 'This is your receipt. Show it to the supervisor,' said the woman behind the desk.

Having done her task, Liana hurried back to the making place. It was almost time to finish work, so Mant just took the receipt, and told her to go back to her hostel. Liana went to give back the permit, but he said she should keep hold of it. He would want her to drop off more boxes tomorrow, so she would need it then. And since she wasn't going back with her work group, she would need it now as well.

Things had got better. With her permit, Liana could now walk freely in the streets of Seren-ila. It was Seren-ila, even though everyone called it Grabble-town. Her work was not so hard, and the people in charge were, not exactly friendly, but at least not so nasty.

But she still had plenty to worry about. How were they going to meet up to get to the Festival? And what would she do about Silmoa?