Chapter 12 marks the half-way point for the Book of Josiah. We've heard a lot from Josiah and Jos, but what about Joe? We last saw him in chapter 6 when an old friend asked him to help terraform the moon.
He had gone to bed early, to be at his best, but sleep had deserted him. For hours he had tossed and turned, unable to hide from his memories, unable to slip into darkness, away from thought and fear. When he had finally drifted off, sleep had been capricious. He had woken more times during the night than he cared to remember. No, it wasn’t his sleep, it was his dreams that had betrayed him, over and over again. And then, at 6:34 he had woken and that was it. Since then he had done nothing but stare at the clock and replay his thoughts.
It was 7:30 am. There was no real need for Joe to get up quite this early, but he had been anxious that he might not have enough time. He didn’t want to be late, nor have to rush. But now, in the harsh light of day, Joe couldn’t bring himself to stir. It had been too long and he wasn’t sure he could trust himself. What if he failed? This was a big chance, an opportunity to do something and leave a mark on the world. What if he said something stupid or irrelevant? How long had it been? He watched the seconds and the minutes ticking away and couldn’t muster the will to move his legs. Today was the day.
Besides, it was warm under the blankets, warmer by far than the cold world outside. Who did he think he was fooling? A nobody like him, who had wasted his whole life chasing the past? Maybe he should just stay here; maybe he should call the whole thing off.
At 7:35 am Joe pulled off the blankets, shivered in the cold and hobbled over to the door to put on his dressing gown. He tied the belt with his trembling hands and went to the bathroom to wash. After all, today was the day.
He shaved carefully, watching out for any stubble trying to escape his attentions - he had to look his best. He couldn’t remember the last time he had shaved like this - when had he needed to?
He left the bathroom and walked back to get dressed. The dust made him cough but he did his best to ignore it, despite the pain. Gingerly, he stepped out of his dressing-gown and let it fall to the floor, shaking with the biting cold of the room. He clambered out of his old, brown pyjamas and wondered what he ought to wear and whether he owned anything that was up to that standard anyway. Eventually, he settled on a grey suit, past its prime like everything else but with minimum stains and only a few small holes. Why hadn’t he taken it to the cleaners? It hadn’t occurred to him before and now he cursed his absent-mindedness. Today, for the first day in a very long time, he needed to look intelligent, modern and successful. Or at least one of the three.
He pulled on the trousers and found they were too big - had he lost that much weight? He fumbled through the cupboard to find a belt and, after much searching, found a plain belt made of black leather with a stained brass buckle. It would do.
To Joe’s surprise, he found a white shirt hanging in his cupboard that was neither stained nor creased. It was missing the lowest button but that could easily be concealed by tucking it into his trousers. If only he had planned all of this earlier. Alongside the shirt, he discovered a tie that it occurred to him he ought to wear and although his mind had forgotten how to tie it properly, his hands remembered, tying it effortlessly in a flurry of motion. The grey jacket completed the outfit and Joe paused to consider how he looked.
He fervently hoped that he looked intelligent, if nothing else, but, as he studied his dull reflection in the dust-choked mirror, he had his doubts. It was the best he could manage but he was afraid he looked poor and outdated. There was nothing to do about it. Even though he’d had a week to prepare, there was still never enough time.
Climbing down the stairs, his knees complaining bitterly, he went to make himself some breakfast. A cup of tea was what he needed - to help settle his nerves a little - some tea and buttered toast. It occurred to Joe that he hadn’t had butter in years - Ammi had insisted they eat margarine instead and so he still did; routine was comfortable.
As he thought about this, and put the bread in the toaster and the water in the kettle, he understood why he was so scared. Yes this was a huge opportunity, potentially the beginning of a beautiful thing. Yes it was nerve-wracking that he would be with people so much younger and brighter than himself but this was only part of the problem. Ammi, Dinah, Eliphaz - that was the problem. Demons he had thought long gone reared up in his mind. It had been so long. What would he say? How could he even look Eli in the eye? His legs began to tremble and his stomach twisted in on itself. But he had promised and would go through with it - in the end, how could he not?
The smell of burning finally reached his nostrils. Shit! The toast!
What was left of the bread could no longer be described as toast; nor could it strictly be defined as food. There wasn’t time now to make more. He really ought to remember to fix that toaster one of these days. At least the water in the kettle was boiled. Joe got up and made himself some tea and drank it faster than he would have wanted to. He found his black coat and flung it around his shoulders. It was time to leave. Although the meeting wasn't due to start for another hour and a half, Joe had to go by Underground and was half-convinced he would lose his way. He grabbed his keys and left the house, closing the door firmly behind him.
The sharp cold made it hard for Joe to lock the door and the keys seemed to take on a life of their own as he fumbled with each of the three locks in turn. When he was done he stowed the keys away and stepped into the cold.
* * *
The train rocked up and down, backwards and forwards, sometimes soothingly, sometimes jolting Joe almost out of his seat. Then, every so often, for no apparent rhyme or reason, the train would simply stop and refuse to move. After several minutes, it would inch forward, as if testing the water, then it would think better of the whole enterprise and grind to a halt once more.
Joe found himself looking anxiously at his wristwatch every two minutes as they sat there in the tunnel. It was ridiculous - there was nothing he could do about it now.
He forced his eyes to take in the rest of the carriage. The seats were frayed and paling, adorned with strange geometric patterns that seemed to shift and change as you looked at them. Above the seats were posters advertising telephone companies, sports cars and websites - each of them vying for the attention of the idle commuter with bad puns and catchy slogans. A discarded newspaper was busy spreading itself around the carriage, each sheet slowly detaching itself and drifting away through the maze of legs.
It was really far too crowded in here, thought Joe, as a tall woman bumped into his legs for the third time. And the price was insane. Joe could hardly believe how much they had charged him for a simple return ticket to King’s Cross. He remembered when a journey like that had cost half as much. Surely that wasn’t so long ago.
The train hadn’t moved now for ten minutes and Joe was becoming increasingly anxious - the last thing he wanted was to be late for the meeting - but there was no sign of movement. The train carriage was silent and still. Joe sighed quietly, just to hear a human sound.
“Excuse me,” began a woman sitting opposite him, “but do you have the time?”
Joe nodded and showed her his watch.
“Thank you,” she said, politely.
“You’re welcome.”
“Why do you think we’ve stopped?” she asked, obviously hoping to strike up a conversation.
She was younger than Joe but then so were most of the commuters. She looked like she worked in the city, wearing a trouser suit, black and impeccably pressed, a blouse that was utterly creaseless. Her hands cradled a polystyrene cup that steamed with coffee. Joe noticed that her shoes were made of snake skin, though whether real or fake there was no way to tell.
“I have no idea but I wish we’d get a move on,” Joe replied absently.
“Oh, are you in a hurry?” she asked, somewhat surprised.
“As a matter of fact I am,” replied Joe almost indignantly.
At that moment, the train began to move once more. For an instant Joe was convinced it would stop again but his fears proved ungrounded as the train accelerated and pulled into a station.
An incomprehensible voice declared the name of the station so boldly that it was impossible to decipher, and then warned everyone sternly to Mind the Gap. Several passengers took the opportunity to leave the train and the seat next to Joe was emptied.
With a speed that caught Joe by surprise, the woman sitting opposite slithered into the chair beside him, still clutching her coffee. She smiled at him in a fairly genial way. Joe did his best to ignore her.
“You look a bit tired, if you don’t mind me saying,” she began again. “Been sleeping alright?”
Joe was about to tell her that he did mind her saying but she only paused briefly before leaning forward and whispering into his ear, her voice becoming ever more sibilant:
“Do you want some coffee?” she asked, as if offering him crack cocaine, her empty eyes boring into him.
“No,” replied Joe in a normal voice, “and even if I did, I am perfectly capable of buying it myself.”
The other passengers seemed to be doing their best to ignore this exchange.
“Not like this coffee,” she whispered playfully, “you see, this is no ordinary cup of coffee. Can you keep a secret?”
“No,” he answered, turning away and looking for another seat, but the carriage was full and the snake pressed on regardless.
“This cup is no ordinary cup, it is the last remaining Cauldron of Plenty - it can never be emptied, it just fills itself up again. And the coffee it makes is out of this mortal plane…” The woman’s long fingers flicked up and down nervously; her lips curled and twitched as she spoke.
In an attempt to stop her talking, Joe thought he would try a different tactic: “Then why is it made out of polystyrene? I don’t think the Celts made their cauldrons out of a polymer.”
“Don’t be silly,” she whispered softly, her face far too close to Joe’s, her tongue flitting in and out, “of course they didn’t - it’s in disguise.”
She studied him for a second.
“No?” she said, her voice returned to normal, “suit yourself. I wouldn’t want to waste it on a piece of shit like you, anyway.”
The woman sat back in her chair and ignored him, as if nothing at all had happened.
No one else in the carriage showed the slightest hint that they might have seen anything strange and Joe was left wondering whether they took lessons in pretending to be deaf, dumb and blind or whether it just came naturally.
Finally the train meandered into King’s Cross station. Joe leapt to his feet and headed for the sliding doors, eyeing the green button marked ‘OPEN’ suspiciously. Would the door open if no one pressed it? He resolved to find out - it would only take a moment.
His plans were thwarted, however, when someone on the other side pressed the button firmly just as the train ground to a halt. He then forced his way past Joe and onto the train. Some people had no respect, thought Joe as he gingerly stepped out onto the long, grey platform.
Delightedly, he saw that the woman with the coffee had not moved from her seat. With a sigh of relief, he looked about him, and, above the milling crowds hurrying this way and that, Joe spotted a ‘Way Out’ sign, pointing vaguely ahead and to the right. He looked at his watch - still plenty of time.
As he walked slowly, and more or less steadily, towards the exit, he wondered whether he ought to buy something to eat on the way. He passed a chocolate dispenser but decided he would rather deal with a human being than try his luck with a machine. Maybe there was a café in the station.
He tried to hurry onwards, following the yellow arrows that promised an exit, and found himself faced with an escalator stretching up forever. “Stand on the Right”, a sign declared. Joe looked at his watch again - he wasn't in a rush and had no desire to try to climb those moving stairs, so he stepped on and gripped the handrail tightly.
The handrail seemed to jerk spasmodically, almost as if it were alive, and was it just his imagination, or was the handrail moving ever so slightly faster than the stairs were?
Then he stopped dead. He blinked. They were still there. Riding the escalator towards him were Ammi and Dinah, smiling and laughing, looking like they did before… No, it was impossible. And who were they with? It was Eli, as he had been thirty years ago, the same bemused expression on his face. They were gliding towards him, ignoring him completely, laughing together as if sharing a private joke. They hadn’t seen him.
She looked just the way he remembered her, alive and beautiful, golden hair shimmering as it tumbled down her back, her eyes aglow with life.
They flew towards him and, as they came closer, he began to call their names but his voice caught in his throat. It wasn’t them at all. They were close now and he could see that ‘Ammi's’ eyes were the wrong shape, and her chin was too pointed. ‘Dinah’ was too short and plump, her face too round. And ‘Eli’ was taller, his skin paler and his lips fuller than they had been. When they drew level he had no idea how he could have made the mistake - they didn’t even look similar.
The escalator carried them away and Joe was left shaking his head in bewilderment - maybe he was more tired than he thought. It was still there, gnawing at the back of his mind, and all the strange encounters, and all his cynical thoughts could not destroy the memories. Joe could feel them beneath his mind - a dangerous undercurrent of thought. He ought to eat something. Maybe that would help.
* * *
He found the right building without much difficulty and, swallowing the last mouthful of a tuna-mayo panini, he pushed open the doors and walked in. A blast of hot air assaulted him, making him shiver and sweat simultaneously. He rubbed his hands together, grateful for the warmth.
It was a well-lit reception, with marble floors and mahogany-panelled walls. The desk was designed to be cheerful and welcoming, the receptionist to be helpful and polite but unfriendly. Joe found it all rather overwhelming.
“Can I help you, sir?” bubbled the lady behind the encounter, an irritating smile spreading across her face.
“Um, yes,” said Joe, forgetting for a moment why he had come. “I’m here for the Luna project. There’s supposed to be a meeting starting now. With Eliphaz…” His words petered out. What was he supposed to say?
For an instant the woman continued smiling, somehow contriving to give her grin an air of blankness, before she spoke:
“Of course, sir. Just take the lift on the left up to the fifth floor and then follow the arrows.”
“Thanks,” Joe mumbled, turning towards the lift.
“Did I say the fifth floor? I’m terribly sorry, sir, I meant the sixth floor.”
“Right,” said Joe.
“And for even numbered floors you need the lift on the right, sir.”
Joe turned, willing his eyes to wither the receptionist with force of ire. She continued smiling blissfully. He considered saying something rude and heartfelt but thought better of it, turned around and went over to the other lift. He pressed the button with the up arrow and waited for the lift to appear. A green light came on reassuringly but no lift arrived.
He waited, trying to ignore the still-smiling receptionist. Didn’t she have something important to do? He stared at the unmoving metal door and waited. Where was the stupid lift? He looked at his watch and began to get worried - the meeting was due to start in two minutes. Where was the lift!
A few minutes later a phone rang suddenly at the reception desk and the cheery woman picked it up with a polished “Good morning, Julie speaking, how may I help you?
“Oh dear. For how long?
“Okay, thanks.
“Yeah, bye!
“I’m really sorry, sir,” she smiled in Joe’s direction, “but the even-numbered lift has just broken down.”
“I see,” said Joe. “So how am I supposed to get to the sixth floor? I can hardly walk all the way!” His anger was swelling but Julie seemed oblivious.
“Of course not, sir, we wouldn’t ask you to do that. Take the other lift to the seventh floor and walk down, sir.”
Narrowing his lips, Joe swallowed the rude things he was thinking and went to the first lift again. He pressed the button and was greeted by the same green light. Was it just his imagination or had the light taken on a hint of smugness? The lift arrived in no time at all, metal doors sliding open to welcome him.
It was small - for a maximum of six people, declared a sign - and covered in mirrors. Everywhere he looked Joe was greeted by another Josiah, looking like a madman, worn out and red-eyed, dressed in ill-fitting, threadbare clothes. He turned and found the controls, pressing the number seven firmly. It glowed red and the lift began moving. First floor, third floor - the numbers rolled past in seconds - fifth floor, seventh floor - the lift lurched to a halt as Joe’s stomach sank into his feet. The doors opened. He stepped out delicately, feeling his age.
A sign pointed to the stairs and so Joe headed off in that direction, passing well-furnished, busy offices and large windows looking out onto the street. A car screeched in the distance and Joe was thrown back in time as his memories fought to the surface.
A car screeched across the road, followed by a soul-breaking crash. Joe’s tea fell to the floor and splintered but he was already by the front door, pulling it open.
Eliphaz staggered towards him, staring at his hands in shock and utter disbelief. Red rivulets of blood poured down his arm.
“My god, what happened? What!”
Eli only stared at his crimson hands, dumbstruck. Blood began to drip from his forehead.
“What!” screamed Joe, furious with fear.
“Your wife... your daughter...” was all he could say.
Ammi! Dinah! Where were they? My god! The car!
Joe ran, not daring to think. He couldn’t bear to see, not again, not again. They would be alright! They had to be alright!
Only a nearby handrail stopped Joe from tumbling to the floor. His breathing was fast, his heart was pounding and he had a meeting to get to. Willing the images to fade, he found the stairs to the sixth floor. They were too steep and the heating didn’t reach them. Gripping tightly, Joe began to head down, taking the steps one at a time.
By the time he reached the sixth floor his knees were really hurting and he was fifteen minutes late. Where were those arrows? He found a door that led into the main office area and stumbled over the plush carpets until he found an arrow emblazoned on a yellow piece of card. “LUNA MEETING” it boldly declared. Joe thought it was the most comforting thing he had seen in a long time. It pointed down a corridor, lined on both sides with offices, fluorescent strip-lighting casting a pallid, shimmering glow.
He walked past the identical wooden doors. From some emerged the clicking sound of fingers being put to keyboards. From others came the whirring of photocopiers, or the buzz of conversation. From one door came sounds that made Joe slow his step. It sounded like at least two people having sex. But Joe was late and tried to hurry on, his legs refusing to move as fast as he willed them to. Ahead he saw a yellow sign pointing to the right.
Thinking that he must be getting close he turned and was forced to climb a short flight of steps to reach another long corridor of identical rooms. He strode down it.
He had been drinking tea at the time, waiting for Eliphaz to come back with his wife and daughter. Ammi had wanted to go to the shopping centre to buy a new dress but Joe had been too busy to take her. Eli had kindly offered to give her a lift but they should have been back ages ago. What was keeping them? He drank his tea and pretended to read a book.
A car screeched like a demon, followed by the soul-wrenching crash. The cup plunged to the ground, forgotten as he raced to the door. It couldn’t be them, it couldn’t be!
Joe blinked and realised he was at the other end of the corridor with no memory of walking across it. There was a short flight down and another yellow arrow pointing to the right.
With less enthusiasm Joe climbed down the stairs, his legs killing him. The corridor seemed to stretch for kilometres in both directions - surely he was nearly there! He was thirty minutes late! Where had the time gone? He hadn’t been walking around here for long - had he? But there was the arrow, pointing down the corridor. So off he went.
Photocopiers whirred and hummed, keyboards clicked rhythmically and people shouted down telephones:
“No, no, I said 5 pm, not 6 am!”
“So I’ll arrange the sandwiches, you organise the drinks and peanuts. Yes, I’ll get the band…”
The ambulance was racing down the road now, and though Joe was sure that it was going as fast as it could, it felt painfully slow. Snake-like tubes were passing blood around Ammi’s body, keeping her alive. Dinah was breathing with difficulty, blood seeping through the bandages on her side. They had to be alright! Couldn’t this thing go any faster?
Then the world turned upside down. Joe was thrown across the ambulance as blood fountained and syringes flew. What happened? They had to be alright!
Joe shook his head and tried to focus his eyes. He reached out a hand to steady himself and almost fell as the wall moved. He caught himself just in time. It had been a door - not fully closed. He staggered on, catching sight of the ever-friendly yellow arrow up ahead, pointing, as ever, to the right.
He reached it and turned, keeping a hand on the wall for balance. Where was the bloody room?! The strip-lights stretched out to infinity and Joe could have sworn that there was a yellow arrow at the very end, pointing to the right. Jerkily, he staggered down the corridor, gripping the handrail tightly with his left hand.
Another arrow! He reached out to the handrail and carried on going, his mind losing sight of why he was doing this at all.
Photocopiers buzzed menacingly, sending strange patterns of light out into the corridor. Harsh voices shouted at no one, echoing into silence. Then he heard a noise he couldn’t identify and stopped.
“Ugh! Ugh! Yes! Yes!”
Someone was having sex in the room just to his right. Loudly. Hadn’t he passed here before? His mind span as he looked around him. He had definitely been here before. What the hell was going on?! His knuckles turned white as they gripped the handrail. Joe forced himself forwards, following the arrows. He must be imagining it. He couldn’t be going round in circles.
He reached the end of the corridor and found an arrow, pointing to the right… and a short flight of steps. He was going round in circles. There was no denying it. Where was the meeting?
A gut-wrenching screech. Everything flew everywhere. In a crimson explosion, blood fountained all over the place. Needles, packets of blood, flew across the ambulance. Joe was flung against the wall.
What had happened? They had collided with something. His eyes flew around the ambulance. He saw Ammi’s skin grow paler, her eyes begin to darken. He watched as Dinah’s breathing slowed, and stopped. They would be alright! They had to be alright!
Joe fell to the floor. His legs just gave way beneath him and he couldn’t hold on any tighter. Thank god that the carpet was soft. He hurt his foot but not too badly. Somehow, he pulled himself upright and tried walking. It wasn’t broken, at least. He managed to carry on going.
But he was going the wrong way. The arrow pointed the other direction! But he was going round in circles! He’d better stop and ask someone. Picking a door at random, he knocked, and, without waiting for a reply, he pushed it open and stumbled in.
“Joe! Good to see you,” said a voice that sounded strangely familiar, “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it.”
Joe looked up, confused and bewildered. It was Eli. He was standing at the head of a round table with four other people sitting around it, holding pens and pads of paper.
“God man,” said Eli, “you look terrible! Did you have trouble getting here?”
He showed Joe to a seat which he promptly fell into, elated and bewildered to the point of hysteria.
“No, no trouble,” he murmured. He looked at the clock. He was almost an hour late.
“Can I get you something? Some tea? coffee? a biscuit?”
“No, no, nothing thanks.”
Dazedly he looked around the room. His eyes were met by faintly bemused expressions. They were all so young! and so well-dressed! Each of them was wearing a suit and fancy tie or a blouse, a gold brooch. What must they think of him!
Eli handed Joe a thick wad of paper and began to explain to him what was in the handouts and what he had missed so far. Joe didn’t catch a word of it. As Eli began to talk to the group, gesturing dramatically at a computerised presentation, Joe found his eyelids drifting shut and no matter how hard he fought, he knew it was a losing battle.
Joe was sitting on a train as it bumped along slowly. A whistle blew loudly as the train turned a corner in the track. His carriage was almost empty. At the back he could see another passenger, gently fanning herself so he could never quite see her face. She was hot but Joe was very cold. It was winter time.
The conductor opened the door and stepped into the carriage, a cheerless smile on his pallid features.
“Tickets please,” he intoned.
The woman with the fan waved her ticket at him and he nodded. She had a ticket. Joe did not. He squirmed in his seat as the conductor came ever closer.
The woman at the back grew older with every step the conductor took, her warm skin turning grey and falling off her bones in folds. She began to rot away to nothing as the conductor reached Joe.
“Tickets please,” he intoned.
Joe did not have a ticket.
He reached up to his mouth and felt a tooth. It was wobbly. Joe did not know why. He moved it with his tongue. Why was it wobbly? He touched it again and it came out in his hands. He touched another. It was also wobbly. he did not touch that one, in case it came out as well. He left it alone - it came out anyway.
“Tickets please,” a voice intoned, a voice like the mountains.
Joe did not have a ticket.
He was on a train, hurtling through the mountains.
And on a boat, plunging through tempestuous waters. Strange hands grabbed him to throw him overboard - he did not have a ticket. The waves roared like thunder and reached out to take him.
He was in a car, screeching like a demon as it flew across the stars, while all around him thunder shook the road. Someone’s in the way! Watch out! The wall!
And all blended together and became one.
“You are not accepted, and you are not My people.”
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