The Infinite Page 6

  I follow Noon into the centre. Noon could become my friend instead of Ama. I don’t know why I made Ama sad. I’m scared she won’t ever want to be my friend. I wish I hadn’t spoken to her now. Did I do or say something wrong? Maybe she doesn’t like athletics. Maybe she wishes she was a Leapling. She said, ‘I’m not a Leapling but my brother WAS.’

  Maybe her brother is dead.

  Chapter 07:00

  NAMES

  ‘Welcome to Leap 2048! ‘Happy 3rd leap birthday to the Intercalary International pupils who’ve joined us from 2020. You have come of age.

  ‘Happy 4th leap birthday to my colleague, MC2. May you enjoy the privileges and responsibilities the age bestows upon you.

  ‘Happy birthday to all bissextiles from other years.

  ‘Welcome to the Annual pupils from Music, Maths and Movement, and E-College-E, who’ve joined us from the CURRENT year.’

  Millennia, the centre director, is giving her welcome address. She looks taller and older than in the film, but maybe she’s wearing platform shoes under her purple hooded gown and the film was made a while ago. She may have time-travelled for years between making the film and now. Who knows? Her hair, white and spiky, still looks like an electric shock. And though her face is lined like a cracked vase, she sounds lively when she speaks. Her voice is decades younger than her body.

  ‘Today is the 29th of February 2048.

  ‘This is the present.

  ‘Whether you’ve travelled here from the present, the past or the future, enjoy the present moment, seize the day. Carpe diem.’

  Millennia’s like me. She likes words and the spaces between words. She speaks slowly and clearly like some teachers do so we can all follow everything she’s saying. But when she got to the Latin words, she said them too loudly and I jumped. I don’t trust people who make me jump. I don’t listen to it all because she’s talking for a very long time and I’m constantly distracted. Ama’s sitting next to me and keeps whispering things like:

  ‘She set up this centre in 2000 to fight time-crime,’

  and

  ‘No one knows how old she is. Def over 100!’

  And I keep looking at the others on the stage with her, from left to right, like I’m reading words on a page. On the far left sits Season, then the criminal, MC2, then Millennia, then Le Temps. When she introduces them, their names flash up on the screen behind and they remind me of something. I think it might be the video we saw in school but it’s something else and I can’t work it out.

  I’m distracted by that and simultaneously thinking about how fast Ama can run the 100 metres because she didn’t answer my question. Underneath all that, I’m thinking about SOS L, but I try to switch that thought off because I’m starting to go into overload. I look up at the glass dome on the ceiling. The sky is grey and it’s still raining. I imagine rain spitting on my face like silver pins.

  ‘We have few rules here but they are important ones:

  ‘One. We are totally eco-friendly. By choice and necessity. You’ve been told that due to the meat rations most institutions have a meat-free policy. Here, we are meat-free apart from special festivals.

  ‘Today is a special festival. Tonight, we will offer meat at the birthday barbecue, as well as a large range of vegan delicacies.’

  Jake and a couple of the Triple Ms cheer. We call Music, Maths and Movement pupils Triple Ms because Music, Maths and Movement is a mouthful. The E-Cos, Martin and Kate, narrow their eyes at the mention of meat. They don’t eat anything that has a heart, not even lettuce!

  Millennia continues:

  ‘Two. Age doesn’t matter. Some of us are young but old beyond our years; some are old, but old people are simply young people who’ve lived longer; some are middle-aged and some have leapt so much they’ve lost count of the years. What matters is skill, wisdom . . .’

  I don’t know what Millennia is going to say next because suddenly, in the middle of the stage, a black-haired boy appears out of thin air. His hair is long but scraped into a pony tail. He’s wearing a cream-patterned shirt with a tongue-shaped collar and matching trousers that flare out a little at the bottom. The pattern has the outline of blue flowers that look like someone doodled them onto an exercise pad. I used to doodle all the time when I was in Sixth Year. I was almost excluded for excessive doodling. This is the best doodling flower pattern I’ve ever seen. Is it some futuristic fashion? Whatever it is, I love it. He’s carrying a cream-coloured suitcase with more lines on it than Millennia’s face. The boy looks about 15 and is as beautiful as a girl.

  Millennia looks cross. The lines on her face etch deeper. Her cat’s eyes narrow.

  ‘GMT. So glad you chose to finally join us.’

  And then I realise that if this is GMT then he must be a she because she’s sharing our chalet. I didn’t recognise her because in the film her hair was straggly like Millennia’s, not tied back. Millennia seems to increase in size and her voice goes up in volume, like a Head Teacher on a loudspeaker.

  ‘You’re late!’

  ‘I leaped from ’68. Think you’d call that early, man.’

  Some of the pupils laugh but I don’t because one; it isn’t true, GMT IS late and two; she spoke back to an elder and tried to humiliate them and three; she has an American accent and I want to know if she’s from New York because Bob Beamon was from New York, so she might have met him in 1968.

  Millennia pauses for a very long time but says nothing at all until GMT looks from side to side, picks up her suitcase, walks down the steps on the left side of the stage then stands against the long white wall. She looks back up at the stage and winks. MC2 winks back. I went through a winking stage. I used to practise in front of the mirror. First it was hard. Then I got quite good. Then I stopped doing it in case I did it by mistake and people would stare at me.

  I almost do it by mistake now. Maybe it’s contagious. I’m scrunching up my left eye when my right one notices GMT’s wearing two watches, one on each wrist. I can’t see the details but one has a blue leather strap and the other looks shiny and metallic. I’ll ask her about the two watches later.

  Millennia presses a button and ‘Useful Information’ flashes on the screen behind her. She talks us through it and I read it on the screen at the same time to remember it better.

  ‘You have met the subject leaders. They are specialists in their field. Le Temps, in particular, has transformed these grounds from a country park to an eco-paradise.’ She smiles at Le Temps from East to West then shakes her head like it’s full of buzzing flies. ‘We value their human input, their uniqueness. For that reason, this is a robot-free zone.’

  Some of the children boo. I’m a bit sad because I was looking forward to seeing the eco-robots collect rubbish and do other jobs humans don’t want to do. Millennia waits for silence.

  ‘Each leader is known by their initial:

  I, Millennia, am known as Miss M;

  Season is Mrs S;

  Le Temps equals Mr T.’

  When she says his name, she sounds French and smiles at him again. I think Millennia might be in love with Le Temps. Maybe he’s her husband. But she’s 200 years old and he’s about 40, so that would be a very strange match, even in 2048 when age doesn’t matter.

  Millennia continues:

  ‘MC2 = Mr E. He will explain why later. Our offices are all on the lower ground floor if you need us. The Time-Outer-Space and SENsory Room are also on the lower ground floor.’

  I read about that in the itinerary. In the future, all new buildings have to provide a room for people with specialist needs like me.

  Millennia pauses to allow us to take in all this information. Some of us are reading and watching it on the screen but a few are listening with their eyes closed like it’s so boring they’ve fallen asleep. Then Millennia’s voice changes. She sounds like Millennia through a crackly loudspeaker. I don’t like Millennia. She keeps changing. One minute she speaks slowly and clearly, the next minute she’s too loud.

&nb
sp; ‘There is something I must disclose to you all: there have been a few disappearances on previous leap weeks. Some Leaplings misuse their freedom, abuse their Gift. They leap and refuse to come back. We have spent days, weeks, months of valuable time attempting to locate them.

  ‘Due to the misdemeanours of that tiny minority, we have cancelled the trip to London this Tuesday.’

  Lots of boos until the teachers calm us down. We were all looking forward to seeing London almost drowned after the rise in sea levels. Millennia continues to talk over us.

  ‘Some of us will spend the day on Missing Leapling Alert. My colleagues Mrs S and Mr T will manage the centre.

  ‘Bissextiles take heed: it is an immense privilege to be chosen for Leap 2048. I trust you will honour the PRESENT and have no ambitions for the past, or the future.’ When she says the word ‘past’ she gives me the cat’s eye for three long seconds. That’s odd. Why does Millennia hate me when she’s never met me before? Do I look like a missing Leapling?

  Millennia sits down. Some of the teachers pull their eyebrows down to their eyes and tap into their phones, some begin to clap, the children who had their eyes closed have what-big-eyes to the power of 3. Which Leapling would dare leap away from a school trip? You’d have to be REALLY bad to do something like that. Everyone’s talking at once except Ama. She’s shaking her head from side to side. Her lips are pursed shut and her cheeks are wet.

  They tell us which groups we’ll be in, one for workshops, the other for chalets where we sleep. The chalets are called The Hives. I remember seeing them in the video. I can’t wait to see what they look like inside.

  My workshop group is: me, Big Ben, Ama and GMT.

  My chalet group is all girls: me, Ama, Noon and GMT. Three palindromes out of four!

  Le Temps leads our workshop group. He also looks bigger than in the video. Maybe they used a camera that zoomed out instead of in. Le Temps is a big, bald man who looks like he goes to the gym, even though he’s old.

  ‘So, Leapers,’ he says in his buttery voice, ‘I’d like you each to introduce yourself by name and say a little bit about its origins. All your names are special. GMT, begin please.’

  ‘I’m GMT,’ she says. ‘I named myself for Greenwich Mean Time, man, the world standard for clocks.’

  ‘Really?’ says Le Temps, rolling his eyes clockwise. ‘I thought it stood for Genetically Modified Teen.’

  GMT narrows her eyes at Le Temps. It wasn’t a very good joke. I learnt about Greenwich Mean Time in PPF. It’s the normal time in the UK in the winter and spring. Then the government make the clocks go forward for an hour in British Summertime, which messes up my head. All other countries are either hours ahead (+) or hours behind (-) Greenwich Mean Time. Mexico City is six hours behind GMT. It’s a great name for a Leapling.

  ‘That’s why you wear two watches?’ Ama says.

  ‘Yeah, kinda. One for GMT,’ she holds up her left wrist with the blue leather strap, ‘and the other for whenever I’m at.’

  I stare at the chunky metallic watch on her right wrist. It looks like something that hasn’t been invented yet. She sees me looking.

  ‘Solar-powered,’ she says. ‘In summertime. But when I’m looping, I batterise. Keeps track of the years.’

  I have no idea what she’s talking about. Le Temps intervenes.

  ‘Looping is when you leap and stay there for some months or years. Loopers often have a favourite year they like to live in. They wear two watches, to keep track of the new time and the old. Ama, could you introduce yourself?’

  ‘Ama Atta Asante. Ama means born on Saturday in Akan. That’s Ghanaian. Everyone’s named after days of the week. Mum’s from Ghana, Dad’s from here. None of us Leaplings,’ she shrugs, ‘except my brother.’

  Ama looks at her feet. Le Temps frowns.

  ‘Why did you come here, Ama?’

  Silence. Why shouldn’t Ama come here? What an odd question. I find myself speaking before thinking.

  ‘Ama had to come to be my mentor because 2048 is her present but my future and I might find it difficult.’

  Ama looks up at me and smiles slightly before looking at her feet again. Le Temps says nothing. I look across the room at the other two groups. I can hear everything they’re saying. Season’s group are laughing about Martin Aston’s name. In MC2’s group, Maria’s explaining how her parents didn’t want relatives in Brazil to know her birth date in case she had The Gift and they found out, so they gave her a normal name but when she grows up she plans to change it. I hear both groups simultaneously until it starts to sound like German and I have to really focus to bring my mind back to our group. Then I feel a knot in my stomach when Le Temps turns to me. But I’ve been rehearsing whilst the others were speaking. I take a deep breath.

  ‘I’m Elle Bíbi-Imbelé Ifíè. Elle is a palindrome, which means it reads the same backwards or forwards, and it means she in French. Bíbi-Imbelé means mouth-sweet in Izon, which is a language from Nigeria. Ifíè means time.’

  ‘Thank you, Elle,’ says Le Temps. ‘That was quite a monologue in your mouth-sweet tongue. But,’ he takes his Chronophone out of his pocket and taps it on, ‘can you actually SPEAK Izon?’

  I look down at my shoes. Grandma chose not to speak to me in Izon when I was little because I didn’t speak at all till my first leap birthday. She was worried if she spoke Izon to me I would get confused and speak a weird mixture of English and Izon called Englon or Izlish. I liked the idea. But I didn’t speak at all for years. I had to go to Speech and Language classes where they threw a red ball at me and made me throw it back. Grandma stopped me going because she wanted me to learn to speak English, not play ball games. That was the day she said, ‘If your tongue refuses to speak, I will teach it to dance.’ She meant I would learn how to taste things. She taught me to cook.

  Le Temps looks up from his phone. ‘Thought not,’ he says. ‘Maybe one day you’ll learn to live up to your name, eh?’

  He smiles like he just said something nice but he didn’t. He puts his phone away.

  ‘And last but by no means least, Ben.’

  After a six-second delay, Big Ben says, ‘Yes.’

  ‘Introduce yourself.’ Le Temps is staring at Big Ben.

  Big Ben is staring at Le Temps. ‘Ben,’ he says.

  Le Temps shakes his head and wrinkles his forehead till it looks like sand ripples on the beach. He’s still staring at Big Ben. I want Big Ben to say something about being nicknamed Big Ben because he’s big and broad and he likes keeping time like the bell in the Houses of Parliament, but he doesn’t say anything. That means he doesn’t like Le Temps. Big Ben’s very good at judging character.

  Le Temps stops staring and smiles at us all.

  ‘As you all know, I’m Le Temps. Le Temps means weather in French.’

  I knew that but Big Ben wouldn’t have known. Le Temps almost whispers the next sentence, so we have to really concentrate.

  ‘Le Temps also means time. In the abstract.’

  Our mouths move like we’re saying WOW but me most of all. That’s the best name ever! I have no idea what ‘in the abstract’ means but I’ll look it up. Imagine having a name that means two different things at the same time! I wish we didn’t have to call him Mr T. I decide to call him Mr T to his face but Le Temps in my head.

  ‘Are you French?’

  The words come out before I can stop them. I wanted to say a longer sentence because in school they tell us we have to ask questions and give answers in full sentences and this is a bit like school. I hope I don’t get into trouble. Le Temps smiles like his teeth are stuck together.

  ‘No. English as they come. But French is the best language.’

  After that, Le Temps asks us what we want to achieve this week. GMT wants to learn more about the eco-ethics of the centre, man. Ama wants to learn mentoring so she can run activity camps when she’s a grown-up. I say I want to become more confident because the future is better for Leaplings like me. But that isn’t
primarily what I want. What I really really want is to know what SOS L means. But I can’t say that because no one knows about the Predictive. It isn’t lying. It’s just saying ONE of the things I want to achieve this week. Big Ben doesn’t say anything. I don’t think he likes Le Temps because he doesn’t drive a Ferrari or rap.

  Next, we’re given our Chronophones. Le Temps says he’s happy to look after our normal phones but I don’t hand mine in because I don’t know Le Temps and I don’t like other people touching my phone, except Big Ben, who uses it to time my runs. My Chronophone is black and larger than I expected. Maybe they have to be big to send messages to the past, present and future. Or so people don’t lose them. When technology gets sophisticated, they make everything too small and it’s counterproductive. Grandma’s always losing her phone.

  I barely look at it before I put it in my bag. Big Ben seems quite excited about his and starts researching Futuristic Ferraris and how they operate. Ama’s excited too, until GMT explains Annuals need extra training to send messages across time, though they can send across space. Then Ama looks sad again, which makes me feel sad. I decide I like Ama even though I hardly know her. Even if she turns out to hate athletics. She has an even better name than Noon.

  But the best name of all, even better than Ama, is Le Temps. When I hear it in my head, it’s Millennia’s voice sounding French; when I SEE it, it’s capital letters flying all over a screen like flies, till they form words, a caption:

  LE TEMPS.

  Chapter 08:00

  UNDERCOVER

  The Hives are modelled on beehives! They look like upside-down straw baskets made of wood. I’m staying in Hive 1. You go through the door and there’s a round lounge with lots of yellow beanbags at the edges and a hexagonal rug in the middle that’s woven from straw. The windows are hexagons too! Then you go up wooden stairs that curve around the outside wall to the bedroom, which has two sets of bunk beds and fitted wardrobes and another rug. The perfect treehouse for human bees!