Forbidden

“Looka me, Unca Mai-ka,” shouted four-year old Kim, perched atop the slippery dip. “Looka me.”

At first Michael didn’t acknowledge the little girl’s calls. His attention was focused on Kim’s older brother, Nathan, as he navigated a rope bridge strung between two wooden forts. The five year-old had insisted he was big enough to make the crossing unaided so Michael had reluctantly allowed him to go ahead. The bridge swayed with every movement, but the boy’s eyes stayed fixed on his feet. Michael smiled as he watched Nathan’s tongue move slowly over his bottom lip, signaling intense concentration.

“Unca Mai-ka! Looka me!” the little girl called more insistently.

Kim and Nathan were the offspring of his sister, Rebecca, and her husband, Craig, who had recently gone missing. The mystery of his whereabouts hung over them like an axe about to fall. According to Rebecca, Craig had heard talk of a cargo ship that made regular voyages to the southern Pacific, more precisely to New Zealand, where the normalcy laws had not been implemented and a family could live freely and happily, especially a family with a daughter who had a learning disability. So far only Rebecca, Craig, and Michael were aware of this blight, but at the commencement of the following year Kim would have to attend pre-school. None of them were fool enough to think the teachers wouldn’t pick up on Kim’s ‘difference’ and report her to the authorities, as was their duty. So Craig had gone to San Francisco to search for the skipper of the cargo ship. It was a mission he had estimated would take him no longer than a week. That had been two months ago. With each passing day Michael held out less and less hope of his brother-in-law’s return. Naturally, Rebecca was more optimistic.

However, Craig’s disappearance had brought with it an unexpected blessing; an opportunity for Michael to disappear—in his own way. Living with a woman and her two children detracted attention from his own difference.

“Unca Mai-ka! Loooka me!” Kim’s expression was now one of utmost annoyance.

“Yes, sweetie. I’m looking. Show me.”

At once the little girl’s face lit up like a light bulb.

“Watching?” she called.

Michael nodded. “I’m watching very carefully.”

With an excited jiggle the little girl pushed off. Whoosh! Pink ribbons and golden ponytails fluttered behind her as she streaked down the polished metal. Michael held his breath as she shot off the end of the slide and landed, stumbling onto her knees in the sand. Realizing she had not been hurt, she stood up and brushed the sand off her palms and off her knees then turned, checking whether she still had Michael’s attention.

“Well done!” said Michael, grinning and applauding his niece’s supreme performance.

“Michael.”

There was a note of panic in the voice.

He turned as Rebecca, returning from a visit to the public conveniences, hurried towards him.

“We should go,” she said, nodding discreetly in the direction of the white van driving slowly along the road to their left.

Everything had to be done discreetly for even in the park there were cameras looking down on them, long boxes that swiveled about on top of tall posts.

“Mamma, looka me on da slippy dip,” said Kim as she stood at the foot of the ladder.

“Not now, sweetheart,” she said, taking Kim by the hand.

The little girl struggled to pull her hand free, but Rebecca’s grip was tighter.

“Another time, baby,” she said. “Tomorrow.”

The little girl’s face wrinkled up and started turning red. A few tentative sobs were given, testing to see whether or not she would have to produce actual tears. Rebecca could see Kim was about to make a scene. A scene would draw attention.

“Let her show you,” said Michael. He looked down at Kim. “If you’re very quick.”

The smile returned to Kim’s face. Tears would not be needed after all. With her blonde ponytails bouncing up and down, Kim began to ascend the ladder.

“Be careful,” said Rebecca.

Meanwhile, Michael collected Nathan, his attention on the white van as it approached the corner at the far end of the park.

“Come on Nathan,” he said. “We’re going home.”

“Already?” he moaned.

“Yes,” said Michael. “We can come again tomorrow. If you’re a good boy.”

Nathan, unlike his sister, knew well that it was useless to argue with an adult. It never got him anywhere and sometimes he received a smack on the backside for his troubles.

The unmarked white van was turning into the side street. It was impossible to see the occupants through the dark, tinted windows, but every citizen knew who was inside. The Black Guards had long ago replaced the police force as the enforcers of the normalcy laws.