For a long moment Blossom stared after her, her lips quivering, as a bright spot of color appeared on each sallow cheek. She narrowed her eyes and turned to the others. "I've been saving this up for a long time, maybe too long," she said. Her voice was crisp, but shaking slightly.
"The thing you were going to tell us, about Lola?" Oliver asked in an excited whisper.
Blossom nodded. "Only it wasn't one thing, it was more than that. It was what she said about everybody. Including you!" she added suddenly, turning to Peter. "You never want to say anything against her, but you know what she said? I'm just telling you for your own good. She said it was real depressing at first, when she thought you were the only other person here, because you were such a 'helpless simp-'"
But why is she doing this? Abigail wondered, watching Peter apprehensively to see the effect of Blossom's story. As usual, his face had no expression, but he seemed to slump down a little more with each vindictive word. Abigail wondered, watching Peter apprehensively to see the effect of Blossom's story. As usual, his face had no expression, but he seemed to slump down a little more with each vindictive word.
"-and all you'd do was slow her down. Isn't that disgusting? You'd think she would have wanted to help you, but all she thought about was herself."
"But," Peter protested feebly, his eyes moist, "but she-"
"I don't care what she did, or what she said to you. All I know is what she said to me." She turned to Oliver. "And you!" she went on with hardly a pause. "What she said about you! How even though you never knew what was really going on, you still pretended to be this 'big, tough-guy leader,'" she mimicked Lola's sarcastic voice. "And how you made her think of a girl when you were singing the first time she saw you-"
Abigail felt her face flush. What Blossom was doing was incomprehensible to her-telling people mean things that someone had said about them. Talking behind someone's back was different, of course, everyone did that, and as long as the person in question didn't find out there was nothing wrong with it. But to actually tell tell people these things! It was like a nightmare. people these things! It was like a nightmare.
"Like a girl!" Blossom spat out the words with relish. "And that she typed you as a phony from beginning to end. She said you were only pretending to be brave, but were really scared to death, and that the only reason you could act tough was that there was only Peter and some girls around, you were just trying to impress Abigail, and if a real real guy had been here he would have had you under his thumb in a minute. And you," she continued, turning to Abigail, leaving Oliver shaking with rage behind her. "And you, why she said she was sure that you would fall for Oliver, that you were too dumb to see through his phony games, that you were spineless enough to let him use you and do anything he wanted with you-" guy had been here he would have had you under his thumb in a minute. And you," she continued, turning to Abigail, leaving Oliver shaking with rage behind her. "And you, why she said she was sure that you would fall for Oliver, that you were too dumb to see through his phony games, that you were spineless enough to let him use you and do anything he wanted with you-"
Abigail was shaking her head miserably. It was hard to believe that Lola would have said that to Blossom; but again, Abigail found herself believing every word, every word like a knife twisting inside her. Blossom was so definite, so convincing, so reasonable reasonable in some absurd way that it was impossible to discard what she said. As the first tears began trickling down her cheeks, Abigail felt an unthinking rage against Lola growing inside her. in some absurd way that it was impossible to discard what she said. As the first tears began trickling down her cheeks, Abigail felt an unthinking rage against Lola growing inside her.
"That you acted so sweet and nice to everybody, so simpering, and then you would just let Oliver walk all over you because you were so spineless that you were hardly a person at all, just this blonde, empty-headed thing thing who only cared what other people thought about her-" who only cared what other people thought about her-"
Blossom stopped suddenly and took a deep breath. "Now do you see what I mean about her? I'm just telling you this for your own good, so you'll know what she's really like." do you see what I mean about her? I'm just telling you this for your own good, so you'll know what she's really like."
"She...." Oliver, his face red, seemed to be having trouble getting the words out. "She seems to think ... that bitch seems to think she knows more about us than we do. If she was a boy I'd beat the piss out of her!"
"But how could she say say that?" Abigail was weeping openly now, her hands over her eyes, not only miserable, but furious as well. "How could she that?" Abigail was weeping openly now, her hands over her eyes, not only miserable, but furious as well. "How could she say say things like that?" things like that?"
There were quick footsteps above them. "Shhh!" said Blossom. "Here she comes."
Abigail hastily wiped her eyes and pushed her hair back out of her face. She didn't want Lola to know she had been crying, and turned her head away as Lola stepped lightly down to the landing.
Lola didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong. "Look," she said to Blossom in her ordinary voice, "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I know that kind of thing bothers you, but you know what I'm like, how I talk. It doesn't mean anything."
Blossom was smirking slightly. "Yes, I know," she said. "It doesn't matter."
"I was just worried about the machine not working, that's all." Lola sat down on her stairway. "Anyway, I've been thinking about what you said," she said to Oliver. "And I guess it does make sense. It's the only explanation. The machine was trying to teach us something by offering the food first, but this time changing the dance wasn't what it wanted us to do. It wants us to do something else, like you said."
"Mmm," said Oliver, avoiding her eyes.
"Well?" Lola said. "Hey, what's with you guys, anyway?"
No one answered her.
"Did I say something wrong, or something?"
"Oh, no, no," Blossom said lightly, folding her hands in her lap and pursing her lips.
"Yeah, well look, we've got a lot of thinking to do. It's not gonna be easy figuring out what this damn thing wants us to do now but-" She stopped suddenly, leaning forward in her seat and looking around at all of them. "Hey, come on now, something's up. Peter, what's going on here? Why won't anybody look at me?"
Peter slumped in his seat, looking down. "Nothing ... its....
"What were you guys talking about just now, anyway?"
"Oh, nothing really," Blossom said. "Just chatting."
"Yeah," Lola said. "Well, big deal. Whatever the hell is wrong with you, we've got something really important to think about now, and pretty soon you'll all be hungry enough to go along with me. Now, what I think we should do is-"
"Well, maybe we just don't care care what you think we should do, you smart-ass bitch," said Oliver, his voice rich with contempt. what you think we should do, you smart-ass bitch," said Oliver, his voice rich with contempt.
"Huh?" Lola said, squinting at him, too stunned by his sudden outburst to know how to respond.
"He's just tired of you thinking you're better than anyone else, and always bossing us around," Blossom said sweetly. "Just like we all are."
"Hey, now wait a minute," Lola said slowly. "Who's bossing everybody around? All I was-"
"Yes!" said Oliver. "Tired of you and your whole stinking attitude. Tired of your lousy pronouncements, tired of what you think we are and the dumb, stupid things you say about us!"
"Oho," said Lola, standing and stepping down to the landing, her fists clenched. "Oho, now I think I'm beginning to understand."
"Good!" Oliver shouted, and Abigail began to sob miserably. "I've sat here listening to you pretend you're the leader long enough. Now we can see through you, you lousy bitch, and we're all sick of you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I do understand!" Lola said, moving threateningly toward Blossom. "You were telling them things about me, weren't you? Telling them everything I said, and probably a lot more besides. No wonder you were so fawning and sweetsie that day, why you ripped that dumb skirt; so you could get me to talk, and then distort it and tell the others. And you're crazy; it's insane, it's completely insane!" She shook her open hand at her. "Don't you realize what you're doing? Don't you know that you're hurting them them just as much as me? You're just just as much as me? You're just using using them to get back at me! You're going to ruin everything! It's inhuman!" Suddenly her voice dropped and she took a step closer, shaking her head back and forth. "You don't give a shit about another living thing, do you? All you care about is your own fat self, and so you go around in this inhuman way them to get back at me! You're going to ruin everything! It's inhuman!" Suddenly her voice dropped and she took a step closer, shaking her head back and forth. "You don't give a shit about another living thing, do you? All you care about is your own fat self, and so you go around in this inhuman way betraying betraying people, you-" people, you-"
"The dish ran away with the spoon," said the voices to Abigail, and in an instant they were all on their feet, dancing frantically.
At the first repetition there was a whir and a click and a pellet on the floor. Changing nothing, filled with fear and hope, they repeated the dance exactly. And there was another pellet, followed by a general gasp of confusion and surprise.
And as she danced, and the pellets kept coming, Abigail tried to understand what had made it work. She remembered the premonition she had felt just a short while before, the chilling premonition, and for a moment she wondered if the answer lay there. But suddenly she was afraid to think about it. She wanted to lose herself in the dance, to dance and dance; and then to eat, and forget.
Chapter 13.
"But what did we do that made it work?" said Blossom.
Oliver had no idea what the answer was. He was still furious at Lola. He felt stubborn and ornery, and wanted to make Blossom's question seem trivial and unimportant. "It just decided to work again, that's all," he said, shrugging.
"No, that can't be it," said Lola, chewing on her nail. "There's got to be a reason for it. This goddam thing has a reason for everything."
"You ... you're right," Abigail said hesitantly. "It always does."
"Oh, why the hell do you always think she's right?" Oliver snapped at her. "Didn't you hear what Blossom told us about her? Why do you pay any attention to the dumb bitch?"
"But ...," said Abigail, who seemed to be about to cry, "but I ... I mean she ... just because...."
"Oh, stop whimpering!" cried Oliver, suddenly in a rage. "I'm sick of your stupid whimpering!" And he grabbed Abigail by the hair and shook her head roughly back and forth.
"Nude in the house of be careful in Oliver's food will be coming she gobbled him up in the dish ran away with the," said the voices to all of them. And the light was flashing again, flashing brightly not five minutes after it had stopped; and they were dancing.
"But why?" Abigail said aloud through her tears, unable to keep from asking, even though the terrible answer was there, inside her, someplace where she didn't want to look. She bent forward, touched the step with her hands, lifted her leg in the air, turned around, down to the landing, to feel Oliver's hands around her waist, bending backward, then rising. "What made it work?" Back to the steps. "Was it because we were fighting?" Bowing to the landing, rising to her toes. "Does it want us to fight fight?"
Lola spun around and wailed. "No," she called out hoarsely, dancing around the hole. "Oh my God. I think ... it wasn't just fighting." She spun around and wailed. "We've had fights before. It was more than that. Oh my God, it must be...." She spun around and wailed. "It was Blossom, ratting on me, betraying me. And then Oliver, hurting you because of it. That's That's what it wants us to do!" what it wants us to do!"
With slow regularity the pellets rolled out one by one onto the landing.
Chapter 14.
Lola backed away and sat down rather shakily on her step, swallowing her last morsel of food. They had been particularly well fed, and for the first time in many days, though she certainly could have eaten more, the hunger was no longer a gnawing pain. It had, however, been replaced by something worse.
Up until this moment, she had been able to put up with being here fairly well, she thought. After the initial pain of withdrawal, for example, she had begun to actually be glad she wasn't smoking, for she felt so much better without it. And then she had begun the discipline of running, which not only helped to alleviate the terrible boredom of this place, but also increased her feeling of physical well-being. She hated being here, of course, but she was just beginning to feel that she might be able to tolerate it.
But now something else was happening, and the thought of it suddenly caused her shoulders to twitch in an involuntary spasm of apprehension. The stairways around her-they were no longer simply bleak and sterile and cold, they had begun to take on an actual personality that hung menacingly in the air around them. They almost seemed to look look different now, and suddenly their appearance was terrifying to her. different now, and suddenly their appearance was terrifying to her.
Abigail cleared her throat, turning toward Lola. "What you said when we were dancing," she began. "You know about how Blossom ... telling what you said about us, and Oliver, pulling my hair, how that made it work...?"
"Yeah?" Lola said, feeling her heart pound heavily.
"Well ... well, that seems so crazy." Abigail leaned forward urgently. "Why should it want us to do that?"
"Why should it want us to do all the other crazy things it makes us do?"
"But ... but that's so horrible. How can it want us to do horrible things like that?"
"Horrible?" Oliver asked, raising his eyebrows. "All she was doing was telling us the truth. I think it makes sense. The machine is trying to get us to always tell the truth."
"What?" said Blossom, startled. "Always tell the-"
Lola interrupted her. "Yes, that's all very sweet and nice, but what makes you so sure that what she was saying was was the truth?" the truth?"
"Because it all made sense," Oliver said complacently. "They were just the kind of things you would would say about us, that's why. And why should she make it up, anyway?" say about us, that's why. And why should she make it up, anyway?"
"Yes," Blossom said haughtily. "Why should I make anything up about you you?"
"I can think of plenty of reasons," said Lola, and sighed with a kind of hopeless fatigue. Peter was looking at her with wide eyes, and she gestured at him, her arm swinging down loosely. "You might as well go back to sleep, Pete, or whatever it is you do. It's gonna get pretty messy in here now."
"I don't know what she's talking about," said Blossom quickly. "Just because the machine happened to start working again at that particular time she seems to think it means something."
Lola stood up. "Oh, I don't even care what you say. Go on talking. It won't make any difference to you, because you do what it wants anyway."
She left them and wandered, brooding miserably. She tried to convince herself that it really was was a coincidence that the machine had starting working again when it had, but she was unable to. It all fit together so well: doing the dance correctly, the machine indicating it was willing to feed them but not doing so; and then Blossom telling those rotten secrets she had been saving for so long, and Oliver hurting Abigail, and the machine suddenly, immediately responding both times. Even if the evidence was only circumstantial, Lola was convinced that the machine's intention was to turn them all against one another. It just seemed right; it was exactly the kind of thing this cruel place would want to do to them. a coincidence that the machine had starting working again when it had, but she was unable to. It all fit together so well: doing the dance correctly, the machine indicating it was willing to feed them but not doing so; and then Blossom telling those rotten secrets she had been saving for so long, and Oliver hurting Abigail, and the machine suddenly, immediately responding both times. Even if the evidence was only circumstantial, Lola was convinced that the machine's intention was to turn them all against one another. It just seemed right; it was exactly the kind of thing this cruel place would want to do to them.
And what kind of things would they begin to do now; now that they were going to be starved into becoming one another's deadly enemies? Lola considered this question, feeling the short hairs on her neck begin to rise. Blossom would just go on doing what she had always done anyway, of course, but what would someone like Oliver do, or Abigail? Lola shook her head, unable to think. Food was the most important thing here, and she knew that if they were hungry enough, there was nothing they wouldn't do to get it.
And suddenly she sank down on the step, overcome, and felt the tears begin pouring down her face, felt her body, thinner than ever now, convulsed by deep sobs. Now she was really helpless, there was nothing she could do against this thing that was happening; and she was utterly alone, for the rest of them wouldn't even admit admit what was happening, let alone go along with her and fight it. They would follow the machine like unthinking robots; and, in the end, so would she. what was happening, let alone go along with her and fight it. They would follow the machine like unthinking robots; and, in the end, so would she.
That was when she noticed the footsteps. She jumped to her feet. Far below her a figure with pale short hair was moving resolutely up the stairs.
Chapter 15.
He had known she would be surprised. The thought of her reaction, in fact, had been part of what had driven him to push himself to his feet and march away from them. "I ... I have to go to the toilet," he had explained when they gaped up at him, hardly believing their eyes.
But why had Oliver seemed so displeased? "Don't you want me to help you, like I usually do?" he had asked him, starting to get up.
"No," Peter had said quickly, and hurried away.
"For Christ sake," Lola said, as he reached her in the middle of a flight. "What are you doing, walking around by yourself?"
"Please, could ... could we try to find a landing? I ... I feel funny here."
"Sure, sure," said Lola, eyeing him rather suspiciously. "Sure, kid, anything you say."
There was a landing not too far away. He sank down against an ascending flight, feeling all at once the sweat of his ordeal. Lola stood watching him, her eyes half closed.
He had no idea how to begin. He hadn't really thought about what he was going to say, he only knew what he felt; and now, when he was faced with it, his mind was suddenly a blank. And what finally did come out, when Lola began to seem impatient, was no careful preparation for what he wanted to tell her; it was the blunt, basic fact at the center of his thoughts. "You ... you're not going to ... to go along with it, are you?"
"What?" she said, her eyes widening as she leaned toward him. "What are you talking about?"
"But ... but don't you know?" Her reaction wasn't nearly as satisfying as he had expected; he was probably messing it all up. With an effort, he began again. "I don't care what Blossom says. The machine. What you said about ... about what it wants us to do now. I ... I just felt you ... you wouldn't go along with it, like ... like they will." And suddenly he felt such an urgency that the words, for him, practically tumbled out. "And, and they will will go along with it, I know they will, and ... and then I was more afraid than before, but it was different ... it was different because I thought of you ... of, of ... of you, and what you're like and how you would go along with it, I know they will, and ... and then I was more afraid than before, but it was different ... it was different because I thought of you ... of, of ... of you, and what you're like and how you would never never ... and I just wanted to tell you, to tell you ... I want to, to try it too. Maybe if ... if ... and I just wanted to tell you, to tell you ... I want to, to try it too. Maybe if ... if both both of us won't do it, then, then maybe the others won't, or something. I don't know. Please, can we try it, I ... I'm never that hungry anyway." He looked down into his lap, afraid to see her face. of us won't do it, then, then maybe the others won't, or something. I don't know. Please, can we try it, I ... I'm never that hungry anyway." He looked down into his lap, afraid to see her face.
In the silence that followed a hundred terrible thoughts raced through his mind. She would laugh at him, she would think he was being ridiculous; he was wrong about her, she wanted to go along with the machine, she was up here plotting against them, against him him in particular; remember what Blossom said, how Lola thought he was this pitiful weakling, she wouldn't believe him, she wouldn't trust him, she would laugh at him- in particular; remember what Blossom said, how Lola thought he was this pitiful weakling, she wouldn't believe him, she wouldn't trust him, she would laugh at him- His thoughts were interrupted, not by a sound, but by a touch. He looked up. Lola was kneeling beside him, her hand on his shoulder; and most amazing of all, her eyes were filled with tears. "Peter," she said, her voice rough (Lola crying? But how could that be?), "Peter, do you think we can? Do you really think we can do it?"
"But ... but don't you want to? Yes, I think ... I think we can do it, if you want to."
"And if you you want to," she said, gripping his shoulder tightly. "Not alone, though. Even I," and she smiled through her tears, an open kind of smile he had never seen on her before. "Even want to," she said, gripping his shoulder tightly. "Not alone, though. Even I," and she smiled through her tears, an open kind of smile he had never seen on her before. "Even I I probably couldn't do it by myself. I need you, if it's going to work. You are probably couldn't do it by myself. I need you, if it's going to work. You are essential essential. Do you understand that?"
"I ... I guess so," he said, confused. He hadn't expected this at all. First, the shock of her tears, and now her admitting that she couldn't do it on her own. He had expected her to be supremely self-confident, as usual; to accept his offer of help as an insignificant, perhaps mildly useful (though certainly not necessary!) gesture. But suddenly she actually seemed to be depending on him to help her. That was the biggest shock of all, and it was not a pleasant one. The responsibility was frightening, and heavy to bear. No one had ever depended on him; he had never been strong enough or good enough at anything for that. It was he who depended on others, on Oliver, on Jasper. Jasper, who had always taken care of him. Jasper....
"Hey!" Her voice was hard and sharp again. "Peter! Snap out of it!"
"Huh?" He blinked at her.
There were no tears in her eyes now, and her mouth was set in a firm line. "Now listen to me, Peter. Listen carefully." Her hand was still gripping his shoulder, and as she spoke she shook it from time to time for emphasis. "This thing we're going to do is going to be hard, real hard. But just remember, you you came to me with it. I'm not forcing you into anything. Do you understand that?" came to me with it. I'm not forcing you into anything. Do you understand that?"