An Invitation from Tusker ...

Members of Tusker’s entourage preceded him. People guessed it was a polycule, the intimacy within the group not hidden. 

‘You just need to relax a bit.’ Evelina was sitting on Harriet's desk, long eyes lashes and rouged cheeks sat above an exaggerated heart shaped mouth. The whole was framed by a mane of golden curls. Their long wiry stockinged legs ended in pointy red stilettos. The toe waggled in Harriet’s direction for emphasis. Evelina was definitely a “they”. 

‘He is actually a complete sweetheart. You’ll love him when you meet him.’

A face appeared. It swelled, stretched, tightened like dough being kneaded. Its lips pursed then blew a raspberry right at Harriet. 

‘Catch me if you can!’ The figure retreated, school satchel swinging from his shoulder, one hand hanging on to his cap and his squat little legs poking out of tight grey shorts pumped up and down as he wove a zig-zag pattern. From the periphery of Harriet’s vision other figures were in pursuit, dressed as vampy teenage schoolgirls. One swung a lacrosse stick which nearly floored Edgar Tusker, but he recovered his footing only to be bundled over by his intimates, his tickle-elicited squeals piercing through the writhing mass of limbs.

Harriet stood awkwardly looking on as the various members of the polycule dispersed. Tusker, the last to rise, trotted up.

‘Spoil sport!’ he lisped. ‘Why didn’t you join in?’ 

Harriet had no answer. She glanced downwards at his scabby knees. 

‘I do expect you for tea and crumpets after prep. 29th floor at 6pm.’

Evelina followed up with instructions. 

Sitting in her cubicle Harriet mulled over her options. Tears welled up in her eyes. She had always felt like an outsider. Tusker’s questioning of her lack of participation in his game just brought back a hundred memories of standing and watching as others seemed to be enjoying themselves. The clock ticked on. What would her mother think of her dinner invitation? Her mother never thought much of her anyway. Contact diminished as soon as Harriet reached some sort of independence, and had vanished to nothing in the last few years.  She couldn’t help but associate it with her father’s death, the guilt of just being present, but alone. Eileen would be happy if she just walked away, wound up her day with the return journey home. But who cares what Eileen thinks. 

Three right turns had led Harriet back to the bottom of the stairs in the service corridor. She reminded herself of Evelina’s instructions, which were now feeling more like a riddle. Something to do with where the mouse makes its hole. She looked behind the stairs. Hidden in the shadows cast by the steps there was a small hatch. She reached in with her hand and felt a lever. With one turn an adjacent section of wall leapt forward, bisected itself and opened. It cast a harsh light across the floor. Here goes. The lift didn’t require any instruction. She felt the upward impulse on her feet almost instantly replaced by a feeling of weightlessness as she decelerated to meet the 29th floor.  

It took a while for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. To the left a piano was playing, no, someone was playing the piano. It was a grand, the piece was moonlight sonata, and the staging was perfect. She had listened to this melancholic piece in the dark days after her father’s death. This time the music was different, more uplifting. The structure of the piano, its body and legs were cast as an image in black across the floor. A moon shadow. She looked up through the large picture window and saw the gibbous moon, the only light in the sky, its terminator line marking day from night appeared serrated along the bulge, the mountains so far away seemed magnified. She felt breath on her neck. 

‘Harriet Sparkes.’ She saw little flashes in her peripheral vision. He repeated her name, playing with it. ‘A name, a description, or an action?’

She didn’t answer, but turned to be confronted with a face, chiselled, high cheek boned, bright-eyed. Not the face she was expecting. What had happened to the pudgy little schoolboy? 

‘It's beautiful isn’t it.’ They both regarded the lunar surface. ‘Let’s talk over dinner.’

‘I do like to have a bit of fun mid-afternoon.’ Tusker was explaining his earlier escapade. ‘Without playtime, how can you get any effective work done?’

Harriet saw it as a statement rather than a question. She was busy trying to navigate the seafood platter presented in the middle of the table. He leant over to demonstrate how to use the crab claw crackers. It had been some months since she had eaten anything identifiable as an animal. 

‘My team is much more effective when they are relaxed. How do you relax Harriet?’

She froze at the immediacy of the question. Her mind went blank.

‘Well, there’s not much opportunity,’ she racked her brain, trying to retrieve the sentence. ‘I try to see my friends when I can, when they're released from screen time that is,’ she blustered. 

‘I think I need to get you a plan, Harriet. You are much too uptight.’ He made a note on his pad. ‘What do you think about a change of scene?’

‘Oh, I have a lot of obligations. I don’t want to big myself up, but there are people who need me.’ 

‘Well I can see from reports that you are pretty good with people. Those skills are very useful. We could use them at AL1.’

Harriet took a beat to think. Anti-terrestrial Lunar 1 was an experimental base on the far side of the moon. Tusker  was doing research there but kept it very close, top secret. 

‘Let me explain. I hope you will respect the confidentiality clause in your contract. This mustn’t go beyond these walls. The first generation of radiation resistant carapace children are reaching an age where they can strike out a little. I know you’ve been heavily involved with their welfare on earth. I am getting many pleas from the parents asking when we’re going to be able to prove the investment they have made. After all, they have paid a lot for the possibility of getting their genes off this planet. As you know there’s not much hope left here.’

Harriet nodded. She was all too aware of the sea level rises.

‘We have to demonstrate that they can tolerate the radiation levels outside the earth’s magnetosphere. But also they need hardening psychologically. We have to see how they might cope without a connection to mother earth. Maybe you could support them in that.’

‘They’re very young to be separated from their parents, let alone the earth. Don’t you think this is a little bit cruel?’

‘I can see it’s going to be a challenge. But we all need challenges don’t we? Living on a dying planet is “a little bit cruel” wouldn’t you say?’

‘It’s not only that, there will be some that just won’t be able to cope with it. Looking at it in economic terms there might be a very big wastage rate.’

‘Well that’s where you come in. You can sort out our young pioneers from the waste.’