Free Vurt by Jeff Noon Page A

me visions. I saw a thick snake of hair writhing between the heads of a man and a woman. And voices drifting through like mist patches, like waves of knowledge. I didn't know where I was. . .
    The people were talking all around me, about me, but none of them made sense; all I could feel was Suze's body inside mine, touching all parts of me. I was getting a hard-on! What was this? The voices. .
    "You should." "Little boy."
    "Saves on shampoo." "He's got no hair." "Call that a haircut?" "It's a crew job."
    Who was saying what? And when? And to whom?
    I felt a sudden, clammy hand stroking my short blond hair. Okay, it's short. Well who gives a fuck! Some of us look like shit with long hair. This the beautiful people will never understand. I'm just trying to look good, you know, my best. Some kind of best.
    And I shivered as I felt those fingers stroking my head. Get the fuck off me! Until I realised it was my own hand. It was my own hand stroking me; through the fog it had come, in order to stroke.
    "Aw! Look at the baby." "He's shaking."
    "He's stroking his hair." "He's nervous."
    "He just doesn't know any more."
    All those voices calling to me, through the mist. . .
    The world was a haze. "What's she doing to me!" I shouted. "Stop her!"
    And the voices falling to silence and all those eyes on me now, as Tristan told Suze to stop playing with me. Suze said that I had the dream within me, but I was well gone, and the feeling of bliss fading as Suze removed herself from my body.
    What was that woman?
    "Tell the story, Scribb." Beetle's voice.
    The last drop fell away and I was myself again, with only a lonely space left in my soul, and a story to tell. . .

    Last time I saw my sister, for real, she was sitting opposite me, across an apple jam-smeared table, with a feather in her mouth, expecting to fly. It was me, the brother, holding the feather there, turning it all around inside of her mouth. And then moving it to my own mouth, and Desdemona's eyes were glazed already by the Vurt, as I twisted the feather deep, to follow her down. Wherever she was going, I was going too. I really believed that.
    We went down together, sister and brother, falling into Vurt, watching the credits roll; WELCOME TO ENGLISH VOODOO. EXPECT TO FEEL PLEASURE. KNOWLEDGE IS SEXY. EXPECT TO FEEL PAIN. KNOWLEDGE IS TORTURE.
    Last time I saw my sister, close up, intimate, in the Vurt world, she was falling through a hole in a garden, clutched at by yellow weeds, cut by thorns, screaming my name out loud. A small yellow feather was fluttering at her lips.
    I told her not to go through that door. It was a NO GO door. She went anyway.
    I told her not to. She went anyway.
    "I want to go there, Scribble. I want you to come with me. Will you come?" My sister's last real words to me, before the yellow feather kicked in, and she was falling, screaming my name.
    Some of us die, not in the living world, but in the dream world. Amounts to the same thing. Death is always the same. There are some dreams you never wake up from.
    Desdemona. . .
    The room, in silence.
    Later that day. Hours of smoke uncounted, but now the mist was drifting apart, revealing tiny fragments of the real world. These little glimpses stung the eyes like needles. I could no longer tell the tale; its telling was too much for me. I was shaking from the memories; Desdemona was aching in my heart.
    Tristan broke the mood. "You found another feather in there?" he asked. "Is that what you're saying?"
    I just nodded.
    Through the tears I saw that Suze was sitting at a small table, consulting the oracle. She was shaking a can of bones around, and then dropping them onto the table. On the baize lay a spread of picture cards. She took note of which cards were touched by which shape of bone, and then threw the bones once more. Karli the robodog was licking my face, like she loved me, or something. Her tongue was long and wet, slick with nanoes. I swear I could feel them cleaning my face for me, cleaning all