The Riddles of Epsilon (2 page)

THERE ARE TWO MEMBERS IN THE CHAT ROOM:

A
VRIL AND
J
ESS

AVRIL:
A bucket? Is that all? I thought you were going to say treasure or something!

JESS:
You would. You watch too many movies. This is the real world.

AVRIL:
So what's it like, this . . . er . . . bucket?

JESS:
Dirty. Or at least it was. I cleaned it up later. In my room—didn't want Mom or Dad to see it.

AVRIL:
Why not? Why keep a secret about a bucket? That place is getting to you.

JESS:
It's wood. And yellow metal, with hoops all around.

AVRIL:
Gold!

JESS:
No such luck—just brass, I think. Very old. The wood's dark, heavy.

AVRIL:
Anything in it?

JESS:
Nope. Well—a worm.

AVRIL:
Well, what you gonna do with it?

JESS:
The worm?

AVRIL:
No, stupid—the bucket! The boring, boring BUCKET!

JESS:
Dunno.

V HAS NOW ENTERED THE CHAT ROOM

V:
Hello, Jess.

JESS:
But there was something
carved
on it. On the base.

AVRIL:
What?

JESS:
A symbol—a bit like half a feather, on its side. And a word. EPSILON.

AVRIL:
Epsilon? What's that supposed to mean?

JESS:
Dunno.

V:
Hello, Jess.

JESS:
Just ignore the intruder, by the way.

AVRIL:
Intruder? Huh?

JESS:
V. He gate-crashed last time, too. Probably some nerdy adolescent somewhere. Just ignore him.

AVRIL:
Ignore who? Look, I've gotta go—Baz is coming round, supposedly to do homework!!!

JESS:
Baz? My Baz? I've only been gone a week and you and
my Baz
are doing homework together?!!!!!!!!

AVRIL:
Your
Baz? Oh, please—pass me a bucket! Hah hah.

JESS:
Oh, very funny.

AVRIL:
Well I'll leave you to decide what to do with your precious bucket and talk tomorra, okay?

JESS:
<< . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  . . . >>

AVRIL:
Okay?

JESS:
<< . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .>>

AVRIL:
Tsk tsk! Sulky! 'Bye then. XXX

AVRIL HAS NOW LEFT THE CHAT ROOM

V:
Hello, Jess.

JESS:
Get lost. Stop intruding.

V:
Actually, I am not an adolescent, as you told Avril. I am very old.

JESS:
So what? Big deal. And what does the letter V stand for?

V:
V is a letter that is not a letter.

JESS:
? Do you always talk in riddles? Oh, just get lost.

V:
Wait until sunset. Then put it in your window. Right in the center.

JESS:
What?

V:
The bucket.

V HAS NOW LEFT THE CHAT ROOM

MY DIARY

Avril might be a pain, but she's right about one thing. This room's perfect for dancing. Plus, They hardly ever come up here. Private. I can play my guitar as long as I like, spread all my music out. Or pretend to do Their boring homeschooling books. Stupid idiots.

I can put on my music, loud as I want—dance the whole length of the attic. They can't even hear me thumping around! There's a whole floor in between me and Them. Nothing much in it. Empty rooms, an old bathroom, even a dusty, claustrophobic little library.

Mom and Dad have taken the entire bottom floor for Themselves. Mom calls it “our suite.” Her art studio's down there, and Dad's darkroom. Then Their bedroom, the kitchen, dining room, living room. Two living rooms, in fact, with all our old furniture from home looking lost in the corners. It's a real mess, everything crammed in
with stuff that was left here and came with this horrible, horrible house.

But up here, it's much simpler. I like things simple. There was a bed already in here, with carvings of four swans, one in each corner of the headboard. It's huge—at least a double size. And Dad said it'd be too hard to get down the curve in the attic stairs anyway, so I've kept that. They got me a new mattress for it, of course. Then there's my new wardrobe, the barre, an easel, CD stack, laptop. My desk and PC, my beanbags and bookshelves. Oh, and my globe lamp. And that's about it.

So it's miles and miles of floor space. (My bedroom is the second thing I like here, but I'd never admit it to Them.)

Talking about my PC, I still can't understand it. Avril can't seem to see V when he—or she—comes into the chat room. After I'd printed the whole chat out, I did my own security check, looked in the room history. It said there were only two people in the chat room all evening—me and Avril! This is impossible. So I had another look at the screen. All my and Avril's chat was still there on the page—but not one word of my chat with V. It had just disappeared from the screen.

Whoever V is, Avril can't see him/her/it. Mom and Dad are always telling me about pervs on the Internet, but it can't be one of them. Because whoever comes into a chat room
always
leaves a trace—it's part of the security system. But this V left no trace. It's as if he didn't exist. I'll have to ask Dad—computers are his second love, after all. So he should know.

So—who is V? What did he mean, “V is a letter that is not a letter”?

And how does he know I'm on this island? Is V on Lume, too?

Gotta go—Mom's calling me, lunch is ready. Smells like leftover spaghetti bolognese from last night. Great. More later.

MY DIARY—NEXT DAY

This is getting weirder! Maybe I
am
going crazy? But hang on, let me start at the beginning.

First off, last night I was grounded. Again. What a rotten day yesterday was! I am so sick of Mom. Her and her baseboards. She made me do two really long ones, to make up for not helping the day before! Witch.

Dad was still angry—even when his precious chickens arrived. Big deal. Lots of flapping and squawking, I thought at least a hundred chickens had come, but no—there were only two! Noisy little things. Rhode Island Reds, apparently. Still, they are funny. Kinda cute. Dad put them in the new run—not dug in the right way at all, since I'd stolen the shovel. Which is why he isn't really speaking to me. He has this horrible habit of talking to anything nearby, instead of to me, when he's angry. Last night it was the chickens.

“So, what are you fine auburn ladies called then, eh?”

I nearly threw up on the spot, but the chickens just scurried about,
boc-boc-bock
ing.

“Pardon? What did you say? Your names are Boc and Boc-Boc? Splendid, splendid! I'm sure Jess will come to like you, once she stops sulking. As it is, she can just stop glaring at me and go and make me a nice cup of tea. Can't she, Boc-Boc? And she can do it without that scowl. You'll never lay any eggs at this rate, poor things!”

My dad. He is sooooooo embarrassing.

And so it went on, all evening. Supper was horrible, really strained. Mom's back was bothering her, what with all the painting and sanding. It always makes her bad tempered. Dad kept jumping up from the table to dash to the back door and snap the sunset (which, I have to admit, does look good against the sea).

Each time he got up, Mom tutted, ever so slightly.

She kept asking me did I like it here, and what did I like, and what did I think of all the old stuff left in the house, and did I want any of it for my room? “For your penthouse suite.” She smirked. On and on and on, questions, questions. Didn't I like the patio and gazebo at the back? Didn't I even like the natural swimming pool? Acres and acres of ancient land, didn't I like
anything at all
, for crying out loud?!

In the end, she just sat still and stared. Dad rushed back, cameras swinging, knocking the saltshaker over. I went on shoveling in rice pudding, knowing it was coming. Sure enough, here it came: Mom's formal voice.

“Jessica. If you are completely determined to dislike it here, that is quite all right by me. But I refuse to communicate with my daughter in the sulky language of shrugs. If you cannot utter words like a normal human being, then take your silence up to your room and sulk alone. Do not inflict it on me.”

Same old thing. Her Head Teacher head on again.

Not to be outdone, Dad picked up his precious Canon EOS-1n and spoke into it.

“Shutters down again, eh? All systems closed? Ah well. Bed, I think is the best place for her—don't you, Elizabeth? We'll all try again tomorrow.”

So that's how I came to be in bed, stupidly early, watching the sun go down.

And so I saw the message. I don't know what else to call it. I wonder what Avril will make of it? Whatever she thinks, I know what I think. I think this whole place is creepy. And now I can't ignore the fact that something very, very strange is going on.

THERE ARE TWO MEMBERS IN THE CHAT ROOM:

A
VRIL AND
J
ESS

AVRIL:
So what happened then? You said something weird happened! TELL!!!

JESS:
Well—I lay on my bed. The walls are slanted—you know, they're attic walls?

AVRIL:
Well, yeah. They would be attic walls. Being in an attic. Duh!

JESS:
Shut up or I won't tell you.

AVRIL:
Okay. Get on with it then.

JESS:
Well, promise not to laugh.

AVRIL:
You have my solemn word.

JESS:
Well, maybe I dozed. Maybe the light was playing tricks. But suddenly, something appeared on the corner of the wall.

AVRIL:
Appeared?

JESS:
Well . . . kind of . . . flashed. On and off.

AVRIL:
A reflection or something?

JESS:
That's what I thought. Like—you know Mom's crystals? The ones she hangs in every window?

AVRIL:
Yep.

JESS:
At first, I thought it was that. 'Cause the sun was setting, kind of slanting through the window. But Avril—there
ARE no crystals hanging up in here!

AVRIL:
What about mirrors?

JESS:
There's only the barre mirror, and that's miles away, all the way at the other end.

AVRIL:
And?

JESS:
And so I checked the window. But there's nothing shiny there, to reflect lights onto the wall!

AVRIL:
Oh, gawd. Is this tale actually going anywhere?

JESS:
Listen!!! There's nothing on my windowsill. Just the bucket.

AVRIL:
Ah—the famous bucket. <>

JESS:
Shut up and LISTEN! The light flashed again, and this time, it stayed. Only there were more of them! Lots of lights, about two inches high.

AVRIL:
Don't tell me. You have been abducted by aliens and are writing this from the planet Zog.

JESS:
Do you want to hear this or not?

AVRIL:
Not.

AVRIL HAS NOW LEFT THE CHAT ROOM

JESS:
Avril? Avril?

V:
She has gone.

JESS:
Gone? But she never goes without three kisses!

V:
I made her go.

JESS:
You little creep! But why? And anyway, when did you enter the chat room?

V:
I've been here all the time.

JESS:
How come there's no trace of you in the PC?

V:
Tell me about the lights. What did you do?

JESS:
Why should I tell you? You apparently don't exist!

V:
Tell me. Hurry—we don't have much time.

JESS:
No time? Who are you? What's going on?

V:
The lights, Jess. What did you DO?

JESS:
Okay, okay, keep your hair on. I stood on a chair to see them better, and I worked out where they were coming from, okay?

V:
And where were they coming from?

JESS:
The bucket. The bucket I dug up from under an arrow at the cottage. The bucket that
you
told me to put in my window. The bucket that is solid wood and brass and has no glassy pieces to reflect anything onto a wall.

V:
What did it reflect onto the wall?

JESS:
<< . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  . . . .. . . .  . . . >>

V:
Stop ignoring me and tell me—what was it, Jess?

JESS:
<< . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .>>

V:
<> While you decide whether to trust me or not, can I remind you we don't have much time?

JESS:
Okay. Symbols. They were symbols. Thirty-seven of
them, projected onto the wall by the bucket, and I stood on a chair risking my neck to see them, and I copied them down, and then the sun went down and they vanished. Okay, now will you please tell me what is going ON!!!

V:
So—you copied them down. That is good. Well, the rest is simple. Now all you have to do is translate them.

JESS:
Oh, yeah, right, is that all?

V:
Do it. Hurry.

JESS:
How? And why the big hurry?

V:
The volcano stone.

JESS:
Pardon?

V:
The black doorstep, of course. At the cottage.

JESS:
Look. Who are you? How did you know about the black doorstep? I didn't even mention that to Avril!

V HAS NOW LEFT THE CHAT ROOM