Rhea tried to get active. The movement kept blood flowing, mind thinking, running from the creeping onset of claustrophobia that lingered between the walls of her room. She walked along the border of Downtown against the ocean in the afternoon, watching the bay and boats. Cabin cruisers, center consoles, catamarans, sailboats, even a few yachts of a large enough size, Rhea could see their value from the land.
She had always admired the sea, but she was terrified of it. She had never learned to swim, and as she grew older, so did her fear of her body sinking into the depths she could not see. This fear settled horror in her core, emphasizing the imprisonment in a doomed hell.
Her path took her east, away from the water and following new streets. She wanted to become more familiar with her surroundings, and she was tired of getting lost.
She moved past a prosthetic shop and stopped to admire the technology in the windows. Metallic hands, feet, legs, and arms; chipping away body parts didn't stop people here.
She moved on, the road splitting into an east and west path. She wanted to see the Jin district.
As she weaved through the streets of Talun, a small outdoor market came into view. A handmade sign dangled beneath the Hara-Kiri bridge:
Pasar Loak Waktu Bermain
(Playtime Flea Market)
A flat patch of land was circled by buildings where colored flags streamed between windows where the market was nestled; dim lightbulbs glowed above a small bar positioned out in the open. A collection of naked mannequins stood against the wall; large colorful wigs were advertised on realistic-looking heads. She saw a haunting-looking Micky Mouse wind-up organ grinder toy positioned on a table around rusty model trains. A collection of cast iron diecast motorcycles spread out on shelves, and some disturbing porcelain dolls sat watching her from behind glass cases. There were Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle and Thundercat action figures and an Evel Knievel stunt cycle that looked as though it hadn't been opened since the seventies. Antique guitars were positioned on stands, and chipped depression glass gleamed under the lights. There were small perfume bottles that smelt of chemicals. She saw a Stretch Armstrong action figure and smiled. Her brother had one once. There was a 1980s Rubik's cube confined in a small case, and Rhea removed it for a moment. She flipped the pieces and solved the cube in under three minutes.
"That's a vintage piece," said a voice, and Rhea saw an Indonesian girl of about thirteen watching her. She had an apron three sizes too big tied around her with colored paint cast across the light blue fabric. The intimidation of the girl came from the massive English mastiff at her side. "It's three million rupiahs," she said.
"Well, that's a little more than I can afford," said Rhea.
"How'd you solve it so fast?"
"I learned the pattern."
"Pattern?"
"Yeah. There are certain steps in which to arrange the colors that result in solving the cube. First, you want to get a white cross on the top…" she said as she flipped the cube until five white pieces were arranged in a cross. "And then you get the white corners…then you want to make a yellow cross on the other side…" Rhea continued as her fingers flung the pieces into place.
"I didn't know there was a trick to it," said the girl. "It's still three million rupiahs."
"How much for the Stretch Armstrong?"
"Six million."
"Shit, this is an expensive market."
"Most things here are of vintage value. That mala you got looks pretty valuable, though."
Rhea moved her hand to the tassel resting on her abdomen. "It's not for sale."
"You sure? I'll give you eight million for it."
"Sorry. No chance."
The girl shrugged.
"Do you run this market?" Rhea asked.
"My mother does. I'm just the guard. Well, me and Emma," she nodded to the mastiff. "She does most of the work; I just point the thieves out for her."
"You have anything for around one hundred thousand?"
"I got cigarettes."
"That'll work."
Rhea followed the girl to the outdoor bar and grabbed a pack of Marlboro's. Rhea slid her the money.
"You sell any food here?" Rhea asked.
"Only drinks."
"Got a light?"
The girl handed her a box of matches.
"You an artist?" Rhea asked, eyeing the girl's apron.
"A little. I mostly do abstract expressions."
"What kind of expressions?"
"Whatever I'm feeling or seeing. I try to be very conscious of my environment and emotions. I identify a feeling and then see where my hand goes."
"I've always admired abstracts. Have you heard of Jackson Pollock?"
"I love Pollock! I have a replica of The She-Wolf in my room."
"I saw some of his work when I was in New York's Museum of Modern Art years ago."
"I've always wanted to go to America. I want to go to the Getty Center in Los Angeles. I heard they have Joseph Wright of Derby pieces."
"You know a lot about art."
"A lot of stolen pieces come through this city."
Behind them, a few customers lingered around tables and shelves. It was a slight motion of a hand slipping into a pocket, but the girl caught it right away.
"Hey!" she shouted at the sandy-haired man trying to walk off with a Nintendo vintage game boy.
The man gave her the finger as he began to take off down the street.
"Emma, menyerang!"
The English mastiff knew her target and sprinted towards the man. She took him down instantly, and Rhea was a little horrified at the violence of the dog who just a moment ago seemed so tender and friendly. She was now ripping the flesh off the thief like the many ravenous hounds that roamed the streets.
"Damn fencers think they can steal what's already been stolen."
"Where do you get this stuff?"
"My mom finds it. She's got a good eye for valuable crap. She has a quick hand and a talent for moving unseen. She's been teaching me her tricks so I can help out more."
"I've never been much of a talented thief. I tried it, and that ended me here."
"You have to be careful and discrete. My mother often carries an umbrella or newspapers with her. She also has a large coat that can fit almost anything you can carry; she ties her hair up and puts on makeup to make herself look old. She also has a prosthetic arm she'll use to hide her real hands. I've helped her steal jewels a few times. Diamonds are her favorite, and there are some nice stores in Mahkota. She'll enter the store with some chewing gum in her mouth and pretend to browse. She's a pretty woman, and her silver tongue keeps her out of trouble. She'll slip a diamond into the gum and stick it to the bottom of the counter. They usually notice quickly when something is missing, and in the uproar that follows, I slip in and grab the gum from under the counter."
"Sounds dangerous."
"Oh, it certainly is."
"Does it concern you? That your mother is putting you at such a risk?"
"Of course not! I was bred and born here, and the only way I know how to live is by being deceitful and dishonest. Besides, I like the risk. One heist we pulled off together at a grocery store in the Belentok district gave me quite a laugh."
"A laugh?"
"We entered in a fake argument over the stovepipe hat on my head regarding the size of the hat. We put on quite a show and told the shopkeeper we were debating how much molasses the hat could hold. I stated we had a bet that the hat couldn't hold more than four quarts and asked the man to fill it for us to settle the argument. Men never expect women to be much of a threat, and we act stereotypical. The man filled the hat and brought it to us. At that moment, my mother slapped the hat over the shopkeeper's head, and I ran to the register and busted it open. Got fifteen million rupiahs, along with some grilled fish and fried duck."
Emma was finished with the thief, bleeding corpse sprawled across the pavement where he had tried to crawl towards the road. Those passing by didn't give a second glance, and the girl gave Emma a gentle pat on the head as the dog trotted back to her, again in the form of a friendly companion.
"Aisyah!" called a voice from one of the buildings lined around the flea market. "Dimana ketelnya? Saya mencoba membuat the."[1]
Rhea had taken to Mirek's language-learning method of eavesdropping, and when she took walks, she started listening in on conversations in Indonesian. She still sometimes had to piece things together, but she was learning.
"Ada di lemari di atas wastafel!" [2] Aisyah shouted. "That's my mom up there," she nodded towards the window.
"Aisyah!" came her mother's voice again.
"Ibu apa?!" [3]
"Kompornya tidak berfungsi! Ada yand salah dengan kompornya!" [4]
"Nah, apa yang Anda ingin saya lakukan?!" [5]
"I may be able to fix it," said Rhea, knowing they were talking about a broken stove.
"Really?" Aisyah looked at her. "You'd do that?"
"Sure. If you give me the Rubik's cube."
Aisyah narrowed her dark eyes, but a smile quickly grew across her face. "You seem alright…Okay, deal." Aisyah began to close down the market, handing the cube to Rhea, who placed it in one of her baggy jeans' large pockets. "What's your name, by the way?"
"Rhea."
"Cool name."
"Thanks."
Aisyah pulled an iron gate bolted to the side of one of the buildings that led from the street and closed off the space. A heavy-duty lock was fastened, and the lights went out. The place looked even creepier in the dark, ominous shadows cast across the ground by the still mannequins, which Rhea kept thinking would spring to life like a nightmare.
Above two flights of stairs was a spacious and delicate brumal-decorated apartment. Soft, cool colors coated the walls and furniture, and incredibly intricate paper snowflakes were taped around the apartment. Dim lights glowed in every corner, gently warped by the small glass chandelier-like contraption glistening from the ceiling. Bundles of Jasminum sambac, moon orchids, and shooting star hoya dangled from baskets and bloomed on shelves. A large sofa sat in front of a flat screen, and to the right was a massive kitchen with every kitchen appliance imaginable (a rare feature for many Samadoya apartments).
A beautiful Indonesian woman appeared from the space with a kettle in hand.
"Siapa ini?" [6] she asked
"Ini Rhea. Dia akan memperbaiki kompornya."[7]
"I apologize. My Indonesian is not great," said Rhea.
"Lucky for you, English is quite common here," said the woman as she altered her language. She turned to her daughter. "I told you not to invite people up here."
"She's not like those boorish shoplifters that linger around the market. She's nice, and she said she could fix the stove."
"You know how to repair a stove?" the woman crossed her arms.
"I can give it a shot," said Rhea. "Do you know what's wrong with it?"
"I don't know. Something screwy with the burner."
Rhea approached the 3-burner gas stove and took a look, checking the pilot feeding the burner and trying to relight it. The pilot was lit, but the burner would not stay lit.
"The ignition tube looks clogged," she said. "Do you have a pipe cleaner and a pin or needle?"
Aisyah brought her the tools and Rhea turned off the gas and removed the burner caps. When she got the ignition tube she used the needle to clean out the debris and grease buildup. She then took the pipe cleaner and cleaned the surrounding area and inside the burner ports. She washed the burner caps briefly with soap and water, dried them, and reassembled the burner.
"You're quite the handyman," said Aisyah's mother when she tested the stove, everything working properly. "Do you like tea? Got some loose-leaf green tea imported from Java this morning."
"That sounds excellent," Rhea nodded. Intense air conditioning kept the rooms cool and the company of the flowers inhaled some comfort in her.
Aisyah led her to the living room, where they sat at a low table surrounded by thick pillows. Emma trotted to Aisyah's side and dropped her head in her owner's lap.
The woman approached with two cups and handed them to her and her daughter.
"Thank you…"
"Vina."
"Thank you, Vina."
The woman gave a soft smile. No one ever said 'thank you' in this rapacious world.
"So Rhea," asked Vina, "what is it you do here in Samadoya? You look too clothed and dirty be a streetwalker."
"My work is mostly with cars. I'm a mechanic."
"Makes sense. Never met a mechanic here."
"Yeah, most people here only know how to break things."
"You been here long?"
"Long enough I'm starting to know what to expect."
"That's good. But here, you'll always find things you don't expect."
"I'll say," said Aisyah as she leaned her back against the wall, steaming cup in hand. "You hear about the cannibals on Ings Hill?"
"Cannibals?" Rhea said with widening eyes.
"People like to talk," Vina said. "Don't believe everything you hear."
"People have been going missing, though," said Aisyah. "I haven't heard from Hugo in almost two weeks now."
"That a friend of yours?" Rhea asked as she sipped her tea. Unlike Hyun's, this was delicious.
"Of a sort."
"He's homeless," said Vina. "Homeless go missing all the time."
"He's smart, though. Smartest guy I've ever met."
"That doesn't mean he can't be killed."
"I've met a man who questions my logic on that topic," said Rhea. "Part of me wants to see him die. Not because I hate him. I just think he'd be better off that way."
"Some people make the world a worst place just by being alive," said Aisyah. "Which for here is practically everyone."
"I'm impressed by your knowledge outside the city," Rhea said to Aisyah. "Have you traveled far?"
"What? To the Jin district? Or outside the island?"
"Either, I guess."
"I have checked out the Jin region quite a bit."
"Really? What's in there?" Rhea began to lean forward.
"It's hard to get through sometimes. The vegetation can be insanely dense, and the ground is soft and uneven with massive tree roots. Hugo would go with me, and he'd tell me about all the different kinds of plants. He knows them all, and there is some monetary worth nestled there as well. Like Banda Nutmeg, aside from being a famous spice that can be used as medicine to cure gastrointestinal problems. Or cenda, which is an aromatic raw material many traders look for and can be used as art materials, incense, talc skin powder, and perfume."
"If he has found so many valuables there, why has he not taken some for himself?" asked Rhea.
"Hugo said never to take anything from that land. There are dark things in there. It's beautiful but scary. Strange figures that move when you're not looking. Noises that don't sound human or animal. Too much of the island has already been conquered, and that's released enough horrors already. Hugo always said how nervous he was that more people would discover how much value lies to the west. Because there is no doubt, the greed here could consume what's left. There are thousands of massive toona sureni trees across the island, a massive jackpot for new deforestation. But Hugo warned me that if such a thing happened, the island and its oldest inhabitants would unleash the actual hell it's holding beneath the surface.
"But that is as far as I have gone. There is no easy way out of this place, and it's not like I can go anywhere else. I was born here. I have no nationality, no ethnicity, no documentation of my proof of existence to the rest of the world. I've heard dozens of stories of the outside; desert lands, and massive mountains, and they ignite great images for my painting. But they are nothing more than stories. Dreams. Figments of imagination. To me, none of it is actually real. Why hold onto a reality you will never have? This is my world. This island and its soulless community is my reality. This is what I've always and will always know."
"Have you known a different world?" Rhea asked as she turned to Vina.
"Once. But those memories are silhouette of something I once knew. I've left those tracings behind. This world may be cold and horrifying, but there's a lot here to discover. So many different lives bundled and entwined together, I know this place is like nowhere else on earth."
"That's certainly true," said Rhea as she finished her tea. "I feel like my mind has…opened. I keep comparing it to what I used to know. The other environments I've been through. I've seen more here in the past few months than I have in the rest of my whole life."
"So, mechanic," said Vina with the crossing of her legs, "not packing any guns or knives?"
"I'm not much for violence."
"You're in the wrong place then."
"You don't have to tell me. I've been forced into an indentured-servitude-type situation with Irvin Rusakov."
"Oh, he's the worst," spat Vina. "One of the monstrous mothers of the city. Even he's not out of my reach, though."
"How do you mean?"
"He used to wear a Patek Philippe ring on his right hand."
"I wish I had your talent. My attempted heist on him is what landed me here."
"You ever steal a car?"
"I've stolen tires."
"You know how to hotwire one?"
"I know how to do anything to a car."
"There's a bastard who has a Bugatti I wanna steal."
"A Bugatti?" Rhea sparked.
"An EB110 GT. You know the kind?"
"I've heard of it."
"Excellent, let's go." Vina stood.
"What? Now?" Rhea said with a start.
"I wanna come!" exclaimed Aisyah.
"Good. We'll need someone who can reach the underbelly of the car."
"Uh…I don't think I'm equipped enough to pull off something like that…" Rhea stuttered.
"All you gotta do is drive the car. My mom and I will handle the rest," Aisyah smiled, her intrepid personality pulling Rhea to her feet. "This'll be so fun!"
Rhea did not have the will to protest, and she found she didn't want to. Fuck it, she thought.
[1] "Where's the kettle? I'm trying to make some tea."
[2] "It's in the cupboard above the sink!"
[3] "What Mom?!"
[4] "The stove isn't working! There's something wrong with the burner!"
[5] "Well, what do you want me to do about it?!"
[6] "Who's this?"
[7] "This is Rhea. She's going to fix the stove."