real world is not in balance. Chaos theory says in the balance of probability, something should happen somewhere to ultimately change that environment.?
Vincent Radebe looked down just before he was about to go back through the fire door, and that?s when he saw her. She was suspended between heaven and earth below him. Their eyes met and hers were full of fear. Her legs were a pendulum swinging out over the drop and back over the lower platform.
?Miriam,? he cried with utter despair, and bent to grab her arms, to save her.
?And then what?? asked Allison. ?If this theoretical thing happens and he comes back to what he is??
?Then all hell will break loose,? said Dr. Zatopek van Heerden pensively.
Her reaction was to let go, to open her cramping fingers.
The pendulum of her body took her past the platform of the sixth floor. She fell. She made no sound.
Vincent Radebe saw it all, saw the twist of her body as it slowly revolved to the bottom. He thought he heard the soft noise when she hit the dirty stone pavement of the alley far below.
He cried once, in his mother tongue, desperately to heaven.
Thobela Mpayipheli absorbed the world around him, the moon big and beautiful in the black heaven, the Free State plains, grass veld stretching in the lovely light as far as the eye could see, here and there dark patches of thorn trees, the path that the headlights threw out before him. He felt the machine and he felt his own body and he felt his place on this continent and he saw himself and he felt life coursing through him, a full, flooding river; it swept him along and he knew that he must cherish this moment, store it somewhere secure because it was fleeting and rare, this intense and perfect unity with the unI'verse.
30.
Janina Mentz?s cell phone rang twice as she drove back to Wale Street Chambers. The first caller was the director. ?I know you are enjoying a well-earned rest, Janina, but I have some interesting news for you. But not over the phone.?
?I?m on my way back now, sir.? They were both aware of the insecurity of the cellular network. ?There are other things happening, too.?
?Oh??
?I will fill you in.?
?That is good, Janina,? said the director.
?I will be there in ten minutes.?
Barely three minutes later it was Quinn. ?Ma?am, we need you.?
She did not pick up the depression in his voice at first. ?I know, Rudewaan, I am on the way.?
?No. It?s something else,? he said, and she now registered his tone. Worry and frustration colored her answer. ?I am coming. The director wants me, too.?
?Thank you, ma?am,? he said.
She ended the call.
The children, the job. Eternal pressure. Everyone wanted something from her, and she had to give. It was always that way. Ever since she could remember. Demands. Her father and mother. Her husband. And then single parenthood and more pressure, more people, all saying, ?give, more?; there were moments when she wanted to stand up and scream, ?Fuck you all!? and pack her bags and leave because what was the use? Everyone just wanted more. Her parents and her ex-husband and the director and her colleagues. They demanded, they took, and she must keep giving; the emotions built up in her, anger and self-pity, and she looked for comfort where she always found it, in the secret places, the clandestine refuge where no one went but her.
He saw the helicopter silhouetted against the moon, just for a moment, a pure fluke, so quick that he thought he had imagined it, and then his finger reached feverishly for the headlight switch, found it and switched off.
He pulled up in the middle of the dirt road and killed the engine, struggled with the helmet buckle, took the gloves off first, and then pulled off the helmet. Listened.
Nothing.
They had searchlights on those things. Perhaps some form of night vision. They would follow the roads.
He heard the deep rumble, somewhere ahead. They had found him and he felt naked and vulnerable and he must find a place to hide. He wondered what had happened, what had tipped them off to look for him here. The petrol jockey? The traffic officer? Or something else?
Where do you hide from a helicopter at night? Out in the open plains of the Free State?
His eyes searched for the lights of a farmhouse in the dark, hoping for sheds and outbuildings, but there was nothing. Urgency grew in him? he couldn'?t stay here, he had to do something, and then he thought of the river and the bridge, the mighty Modder, it must be somewhere up ahead, and its bridge.
Under the bridge would be a place to shelter, to hide away.
He must get there before they did.
Quinn and Radebe waited for her at the elevator and Quinn said, ?Can we talk in your office, ma?am,? and she knew there was a screw loose somewhere because they were grim, especially Radebe? he looked crushed. She walked ahead, opened the office door, went in and waited for them to close the door behind them. They stood, conventions of sitting irrelevant now. The two
began to speak simultaneously, stopped, looked at each other. Radebe held up his hand. ?It is my responsibility,? he said to Quinn, and looked at Janina with difficulty his voice monotone, his eyes dead, as if there was no one inside anymore. ?Ma?am, due to my neglect, Miriam Nzululwazi escaped from the interview room.? She went cold.
