О чем книга kissing the rain

Kissing the Rain

From the acclaimed author of MARTYN PIG and LUCAS comes another compelling, edgy thriller about love, loss, and pivotal decisions. Now in a dynamic new Kevin Brooks repackaging!

Moo Nelson likes to be alone. Overweight and shy, Moo is constantly mocked and bullied by his cruel classmates. He’s happiest spending time on a secluded bridge above the highway, watching the cars From the acclaimed author of MARTYN PIG and LUCAS comes another compelling, edgy thriller about love, loss, and pivotal decisions. Now in a dynamic new Kevin Brooks repackaging!

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Kissing the Rain
I thought Kissing the Rain was an uninteresting book. It didn’t catch my attention very well at all; I wasn’t drawn in on the drama. It was okay, but it wouldn’t be the first book that I would pick out in the library. Although, I would recommend this to anyone that is interested in dark and shadowy, yet secretive books. This book was confusing from beginning to the end. I think the author’s purpose was to entertain the reader. (He didn’t do a good job.)
I would say that Vine was Kissing the Rain
I thought Kissing the Rain was an uninteresting book. It didn’t catch my attention very well at all; I wasn’t drawn in on the drama. It was okay, but it wouldn’t be the first book that I would pick out in the library. Although, I would recommend this to anyone that is interested in dark and shadowy, yet secretive books. This book was confusing from beginning to the end. I think the author’s purpose was to entertain the reader. (He didn’t do a good job.)
I would say that Vine was my favorite character. He was the manipulative and sneaky guy. He was fairly violent as well. Vine is an extremely difficult man to work with I personally would regret working with him he is a mean and big buff guy, who is taller and most likely stronger than me. I liked Vine because he was the tough guy, that everyone thought they should be scared of, they feared him the most.
My least favorite character was Moo. I felt as if he cares about what other people thought about him, and he doesn’t have a mind of his own. He goes by what other people say or think. Moo has a tendency to let people bother him and effect any major or minor decisions that he would make in his life. I also thought he was annoying. He never wanted to be around people. He always wanted to be alone, and I found that extremely unhealthy.
The last chapter of my book was the best! I really like how Moo and his friend tried to plan to murder Vine, I was disappointed that he didn’t follow through with idea. I was looking forward to someone finally deciding to stand up to the big man, the boss. They thought that if they killed Vine they would have to be forced to testify against him. The original plan was to testify in his favor because Moo was afraid to say no because of the things he was capable of, the end was unpredictable! I never would have seen a potential murder coming up.
I think that Jack Nichols would be a great person to play Vine because he looks like a mafia person. Spencer Breslin should play Moo because he is a boring fat kid just like the character Moo.
When I was reading this book I felt annoyed, and frustrated it was very bleak and dreadful. It brought my spirit down whenever I picked it up to read it.
My favorite line of this book when Vine said: “WHAT YOU GONNA DO?” that was the very last line of my book; I liked it because I knew I was finally done!

«You don’t have to tell a lie to protect people.»

«You don’t have to tell the truth to hurt people either.»

That was one of the most memorable exchanges in one of my favorite tv shows, Kyle XY. From the day I heard that until now, I still use that as my guide whenever I face such difficult dilemmas.

What if the things at stakes are bigger? What if lying or telling the truth means more than protecting and hurting people? It’s not an easy choice, is it? That is exactly the choice Mike «Moo» Nelson, «You don’t have to tell a lie to protect people.»

«You don’t have to tell the truth to hurt people either.»

That was one of the most memorable exchanges in one of my favorite tv shows, Kyle XY. From the day I heard that until now, I still use that as my guide whenever I face such difficult dilemmas.

What if the things at stakes are bigger? What if lying or telling the truth means more than protecting and hurting people? It’s not an easy choice, is it? That is exactly the choice Mike «Moo» Nelson, the protagonist and the narrator of Kissing the Rain, has to make.

Moo is a star-witness of a crime or an alleged crime that cause his already miserable RAINy life more miserable. Some people are forcing him to tell a lie that will endanger his life and all the people he loves. On the other hand, some people are forcing him to tell the truth that will endanger a lot of people’s life, people that he don’t even know, innocent people. It isn’t a matter between right or wrong anymore. Both are right and both are wrong.

An implicit question Moo asks in the book goes «What you gonna do?». If you were caught between those choices like Moo, what are you going to do? What am I going to do? I don’t know. I don’t have a freaking idea what to do. It sounds evil and selfish but sometimes its a relief and you feel grateful that these kind of difficult situations happens to other people and not to yourself. As you say Moo,

Better him than me.
Better Moo than me.
That’s the way it goes.

Despite the writing style being such a royal pain in the ass and the annoying retard’ish habit of Moo in imitating sounds like shroooommm. shroommm..tick.tick.tuck.tock.puck.dun.dun.phewt.pik.pock.shick.click. that sometimes goes on and for a whole paragraph, I learned to appreciate this book. It’s not that great but it’s not that horrible either. And it did remind me of this:(Note: I am just paraphrasing an excerpt from one of my school papers I wrote before.)

This is Moo’s story. A fat, unpopular, bullied, 15 year old English kid. Not only is he bullied, but he is criticized, called names and taunted on a daily basis. Moo calls this criticism and abuse «The Rain». Despite having no actual friends, he does have a compatriot of sorts in Brady, another boy at his school who is treated much the way Moo is due to his shortness and poor health.

The book is told in first person narrative from Moo’s point of view. It seems very realistic and painfully sad. Hi This is Moo’s story. A fat, unpopular, bullied, 15 year old English kid. Not only is he bullied, but he is criticized, called names and taunted on a daily basis. Moo calls this criticism and abuse «The Rain». Despite having no actual friends, he does have a compatriot of sorts in Brady, another boy at his school who is treated much the way Moo is due to his shortness and poor health.

The book is told in first person narrative from Moo’s point of view. It seems very realistic and painfully sad. His parents are both overweight and seem to literally smother Moo with food. There are many times in the book when Moo describes meals like this: shovel it up, pile it up and push it in, nosh, nosh, nosh. etc. Over and over. They aren’t doing him any favors.

Moo stand atop a bridge over a highway each night, alone, and counts cars, plays games with himself and basically wallows in sadness. It made me feel horrible to read his descriptions of how he spent his time because despite the pitifulness of his life, Moo absolutely does not feel sorry for himself. He understands pity and hates it. He refuses to allow himself to indulge in it.

One night as he watches cars on his bridge he sees an episode of apparent road rage and someone dies as a result. Moo seems to be the only real witness and he is questioned by the police. He is confused and afraid by the whole process especially since what he sees just doesn’t seem right to him. It’s not. The entire event was orchestrated to frame a known underground criminal. Poor, poor Moo for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Most of the book is about the inner turmoil caused by his intention to testify at the criminal hearing and his insistence on telling the truth despite the police wishing the truth were otherwise.

Moo is threatened by crooked police, wooed and bribed by the framed man’s attorney and then threatened again by the goon. Not only is Moo himself in danger, which he could accept it seems, but the law lets him in on a little secret. His father is a deadbeat, cheating the dole and illegally living off the people. If Moo testifies the police will prosecute his father. It’s all just too much for a young man to take.

Once Moo agrees to testify his abuse at school stops. Completely. Moo is intelligent enough to realize this must be due to the influence of the man his testimony could help free. Poor Brady gets no such relief, and during an intense scene Moo realizes that Brady has lied and said he also saw the incident. It seems Brady is willing to say he saw what the police want to have happened. Sadly, Brady is physically punished for this with a brutal beating and recants. It’s just one more thing to add to Moo’s list of the crap storm that comes from what happened and all the adults trying to twist the truth to suit their own needs despite who gets hurt.

The inner dialogue and Moo’s observations struck me as very realistic and sometimes hurt to read. He wasn’t a great kid or anything, but he was just a kid and we all hate to think of the young as being so mistreated. There seems little he can do to help himself and no matter what he does or says someone will get hurt. So many times this is the case, but we all hope it only happens to adults.

Источник

Kissing the Rain, Brooks Kevin

Описание: Dawn Bundy is fifteen. She doesn`t fit in and she couldn`t care less. Dawn has other things on her mind. Her dad disappeared two years ago and it`s all God`s fault. When Dawn`s dad found God, it was the worst time ever. He thought he`d found the answer to everything. But that wasn`t the end of it.

Автор: Brooks Kevin
Название: Five Hundred Miles
ISBN: 1781125406 ISBN-13(EAN): 9781781125403
Издательство: Titan books ltd.
Рейтинг:
Цена: 646 р.
Наличие на складе: Есть у поставщика Поставка под заказ.

Описание: Tense teen drama with all the hallmarks of a classic Kevin Brooks, in which two brothers take off in a stolen car with a mysterious girl. A road-movie story shot through with playful hopefulness. Particularly suitable for struggling, reluctant and dyslexic readers aged 12+

Автор: Brooks, Kevin
Название: The Snake Trap
ISBN: 1447238982 ISBN-13(EAN): 9781447238980
Издательство: Pan Macmillan
Рейтинг:
Цена: 678 р.
Наличие на складе: Невозможна поставка.

Описание: The third thrilling book in the Travis Delaney series by Carnegie medal-winning author and critically acclaimed master of suspense Kevin Brooks.

Автор: Brooks Kevin
Название: Bloodline
ISBN: 1781124914 ISBN-13(EAN): 9781781124918
Издательство: Titan books ltd.
Рейтинг:
Цена: 738 р.
Наличие на складе: Невозможна поставка.

Описание: Gritty, nail-biting thriller from Carnegie medalist Kevin Brooks. Finbar`s quiet weekend is disrupted by the sudden appearance of a girl with a gun and a bag of cash. Who is she? And will Finbar`s life ever be the same? Particularly suitable for struggling, reluctant and dyslexic readers aged 12+

Автор: Brooks Kevin
Название: I See You Baby
ISBN: 1781124760 ISBN-13(EAN): 9781781124765
Издательство: Titan books ltd.
Рейтинг:
Цена: 646 р.
Наличие на складе: Поставка под заказ.

Описание: A dual-narrative drama with a touch of romance. Sally and Keith are both fed up with being themselves. When fate intervenes and offers them each a chance to be someone else for a weekend at a music festival, there`s no telling how it`ll turn out. Particularly suitable for struggling, reluctant and dyslexic readers aged 12+

Автор: Brooks Kevin
Название: Lucas
ISBN: 1910002011 ISBN-13(EAN): 9781910002018
Издательство: Scholastic UK
Рейтинг:
Цена: 812 р.
Наличие на складе: Есть у поставщика Поставка под заказ.

Автор: Brooks Kevin
Название: Candy
ISBN: 191000202X ISBN-13(EAN): 9781910002025
Издательство: Scholastic UK
Рейтинг:
Цена: 812 р.
Наличие на складе: Невозможна поставка.

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Три высших образования порнокарьере не помеха: 12 самых умных актрис взрослого кино

Среди героинь этой подборки есть и обладательница степени MBA, и студентка МГИМО, и юная программистка, разработавшая собственное программное обеспечение, и еще очень много умных и образованных женщин. Что объединяет их всех, кроме умственных способностей? Все они известные порноактрисы.

Ангелина Дорошенкова, 24 года Бывшая студентка МГИМО

Ангелина стала известной после того, как бросила учебу в МГИМО и ушла в порнобизнес. Девушка всегда была отличницей и без труда поступила на бюджетное отделение МГИМО, однако в одном из престижных российских вузов долго не проучилась. Ангелина бросила учебу и стала порноактрисой. На этот шаг ее подтолкнули не материальные трудности, а простой интерес.

Лиза Спаркс, 40 лет Магистр искусств

Deep Bunny Hole, 23 года Программистка из Петербурга

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Уоллес в детстве занималась балетом и даже одержала победу в нескольких серьезных танцевальных соревнованиях. В подростковом возрасте Лори была председателем школьного совета и театрального кружка. После окончания колледжа слушала курс в юридической школе в Университете Джорджа Вашингтона, но бросила юридическую практику после того, как ее пригласили на работу в модельное агентство.

Потом Лори начала сниматься для мужских журналов, после увлеклась эротическими съемками и позировала для Playboy и Hustler, а в 2002 году окончательно перешла на съемки в фильмах для взрослых.

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Аликс из Нью-Йорка окончила университет по специальности «связи с общественностью» и получила степень MBA в сфере интернет-маркетинга. Девушка была настроена на серьезную карьеру, но оказалась без работы. Тогда Аликс вспомнила мечты своей юности, когда она с восхищением рассматривала моделей Playboy и мечтала стать такой же сексуальной. Но Аликс думала, что мало кто поймет ее желание стать эротической моделью, поэтому начала готовиться к колледжу.

Лорелей Ли, 36 лет Выпускница Университета Сан-Франциско

Анни Спринкл, 63 года Доктор наук

T.J. Hart, 50 лет Получила три высших образования

Жизнь Ти Джей Харт достойна экранизации. Спортсменка, комсомолка и просто красавица в 1988 году выступала за олимпийскую сборную США по плаванию. Обычно атлеты не могут похвастаться академическими знаниями, но девушка получила сразу три высших образования. Она изучала психологию, социологию и искусство в Университете Колорадо.

Обычно у людей, посвящающих время и спорту, и образованию, не остается времени на что-то другое, но вы уже поняли, что Ти Джей — не обычная девушка. В 30 лет Эми (настоящее имя актрисы) взяла псевдоним и начала работать в индустрии для взрослых. До этого она… зарабатывала на жизнь и учебу барменшей и школьной учительницей.

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В 13 лет Азия играла Баха на концерте в Карнеги-холл, а окончив школу, получила грант на изучение экономики и японского языка в университете (мама Азии — японка). К тому времени Азия уже работала в стриптизе, так как после школьного выпускного ушла из дома и начала самостоятельную жизнь.

Карьера у шеста задалась: Азия стала самой высокооплачиваемой экзотической танцовщицей в штате Нью-Джерси, что вдохновило девушку идти дальше. Ученую степень Каррера не получила, зато самостоятельно освоила веб-дизайн и создала свой сайт. Сейчас Азия почти не снимается, предпочитая работать над сайтом и воспитывать двоих детей.

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О чем книга kissing the rain

Books by Kevin Brooks

THE ROAD OF THE DEAD

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3

(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)

Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia

(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi – 110 017, India

Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Mairangi Bay, Auckland 1310, New Zealand

(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank,

Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Text copyright © Kevin Brooks, 2007

The moral right of the author has been asserted

All rights reserved

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may

be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any

form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise),

without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above

publisher of this book

It must have been around nine thirty in the morning when the waiting-room door opened and the sandy-haired man with the clipboard came in. My appointment was at nine, so I’d already been waiting a while, but I wasn’t really that bothered. I suppose I was feeling a little bit anxious, and there was something about the hospital gown I was wearing that made me feel weirdly uncomfortable, but I wasn’t pacing around the room or chewing my fingernails or anything. I was just standing at the window, gazing out at the hospital grounds, trying to convince myself that everything was going to be OK.

It was just a routine examination.

All they were going to do was stick a tube down my throat and take a good look inside my stomach.

What was there to worry about?

‘Robert Smith?’ the man at the door said, glancing up from his clipboard.

I don’t know why he asked, I was the only one there. But I suppose he had to say something.

He nodded at me. ‘This way, please.’

I followed him out of the waiting room and he started leading me down a long white corridor. I wasn’t sure what he was – nurse, administrator, some kind of assistant – but he was wearing a hospital tunic with a name badge pinned to the pocket, so I guessed he knew what he was doing. He walked briskly, with busy little steps, and as we crossed the polished floor, it was a struggle to keep up with him. Too fast to walk, too slow to run. I scampered along behind him.

‘Dr Andrews will be performing your endoscopy,’ he told me, glancing over his shoulder. ‘He’s very good.’ He smiled reassuringly – a quick professional smile. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. It’ll be over before you know it.’

I gave him a look – half-smile, half-shrug – just to let him know that I wasn’t worried about anything, but he’d already turned his attention back to his clipboard and was marching away down the corridor.

I wiped my sweaty hands on my gown and carried on following him.

At the end of the corridor, just as we reached a pair of green curtains set in the wall, he stopped quite suddenly and spun round to face me. I scampered to a halt in front of him.

‘Uh, sorry about this,’ he muttered, peering at his clipboard. ‘I just have to… um… sorry, I just remembered something.’ He frowned to himself for a moment, then looked up and smiled tightly at me. ‘I won’t be a minute.’

‘Uh… OK,’ I started to say. ‘What shall I…?’

But before I could finish, he’d turned round and walked away, leaving me standing there in front of the green curtains, nervously fingering the hem of my gown, not knowing what to do.

I crossed my arms, uncrossed them, put them behind my back.

I shuffled a little.

I kept still and stared at the floor.

I could hear muffled sounds from behind the green curtains. Low voices, medical mutterings, the scuffle of small movements. Adjustments. The ring and tink of instruments. I listened hard, trying to make sense of it all, but none of it meant anything to me. They were just hospital noises.

I scratched my neck.

I shuffled some more and carried on staring at the floor.

I looked down at the floor again.

Time passed. Seconds, minutes…

The hospital moved all around me. Porters, nurses, patients, doctors, men and women in suits. Everyone was busy.

I stood there waiting.

When the sandy-haired man eventually came back, he was carrying a large brown envelope in his hand.

‘Sorry about that,’ he said, slightly out of breath.

I looked at him, wondering if the envelope had anything to do with me. But if it had, he wasn’t telling.

‘Right then,’ he said, whipping back the green curtains, ‘let’s get started.’

The little room beyond the green curtains wasn’t really a room at all. It was more like a short white corridor. A chamber. A halfway place. An anteroom, perhaps… whatever that is. It was a small place, functionally cramped and quietly busy. Machines, doctors, nurses, trolleys. Monitors, instruments, bottles, tubes.

The machines hummed and whirred.

The doctors and nurses muttered gently.

It was a place of confidence and no emotion. Everyone knew exactly what they were doing. Everyone except me.

The air smelled of metal and clean hands.

Through a narrow opening at the far end of the corridor, a darkness glowed with a hidden light. Rinky-tink sounds drifted down from the darkness, and I knew that was where I was going.

It all happened so quickly.

‘Lie on the trolley, please.’

I felt really awkward, clambering on to the trolley. I felt stupid and clumsy and useless.

Now I was lying on my back, staring up at a strip light on the ceiling. The light was sterile, penetrating.

Nothing was happening.

When I raised my head to see what was going on, I saw a man in a green tunic removing a plastic syringe from a hygienically sealed packet. Dr Andrews, I presumed. He placed the syringe on a dull metal worktop. It rolled a little. He steadied it. He said something to a nurse. (What did he say?) She nodded and turned away. Somewhere behind me, someone was humming a tune – hmm hmm hmm. Shoes scuffed softly on the white-tiled floor.

A nurse came over and put a blood-pressure cuff on my arm. I smiled at her. She looked at a monitor, read out some numbers.

Dr Andrews said so
mething to her.

She asked me to open my mouth.

She told me she was going to spray something into the back of my throat, to numb it. ‘It won’t hurt,’ she said. ‘Don’t breathe or swallow while I’m spraying.’

‘You can swallow now,’ she said.

My throat felt numb and it was hard to swallow, but I did my best.

Dr Andrews had a needle in his hand now. A shortish needle attached to a small pink tube. He moved up beside me and took hold of my hand.

He started rubbing gently at the back of my hand, peering at it, looking for a vein. Talking. Rubbing. Talking…

He was talking to me.

‘… just a very light anaesthetic, Robert, a sedative really. It might knock you out, but don’t worry if it doesn’t. It’s not unusual to remain conscious throughout the examination…’

I tried to listen as he explained the rest of the procedure, but I couldn’t seem to concentrate. I was too self-conscious, too aware that I was supposed to be listening. As he carried on talking, his voice calm and confident, I realized that my sense of touch was unnaturally heightened. I could feel everything – the firmness of his fingers on the back of my hand, the padded metal of the trolley, the dry spit glued to the corners of my mouth. The only thing I couldn’t feel was the back of my throat.

‘All right?’ the doctor said.

I watched intently as he slid the needle attachment into a bulging vein in the back of my hand.

Ting – a tiny pain, sharp and bright.

I closed my eyes for a moment, then opened them again. The doctor was holding the syringe in his hand now. Studying it, checking it. It looked so small. A tiny plastic tube of almost clear liquid…

I wondered how it worked. A tiny plastic tube of almost clear liquid… how did it work? How did it do what it was meant to do? What was in it? Was it pre-filled? I didn’t see the doctor fill it. Or did I? I didn’t know.

Absently, as if he’d done it a thousand times before, the doctor did something to the syringe – shook it, knocked it, jiggled it – and as I watched him, I wondered why the syringe was in two parts. I knew it didn’t matter, but I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it. Why is the syringe in two parts? Why is the needle separate from the body of the syringe? Why is the syringeless needle inserted into my vein and then attached to the body of the syringe?

The question grew to hide my anxiety as the plunger was depressed and the anaesthetic was injected into my blood.

I felt it – that sharp, alien, liquid pressure…

Why is the syringe in two parts?

Some reason, I was thinking.

Some medical reason…

And then I wasn’t thinking at all.

nunuuuuuuunuuuuunnununnunsaasaaa tah thhahh ah hta ta and th tht its ah impimpimperative thath ahahuntil we know no one professorcasing must know do you understananand? of course, cooper, sir. tell hayes to get the names, sir. whoelse apart from usnandrews? anynursenstaff? no therewas nothing to be seen. no. nothinglmean not anything physical. On a screen. On tape. It was on the screen. Right. So who else? Carlingle, the assistant. Kamal here, the anaesthetist. Kamal

You know we cant keephimunder much longer you know just wait. Wait. Professor? What do you think? Cooper. Sir. Wheres Ryan? Anyminute, sir. see those pictures again. Christ. What is that? What the hell is that?

Rubber and gas. Tubes.

What the hell is that?

Clean rubber. White gas. The taste of plastic tubing, deep in my throat. Scratchy and hard. The taste of chemicals. What is this? This shouldn’t be happening. This shouldn’t be. I’m lying on my back with my eyes closed. A white sheet covers my body. Beneath the sheet I’m naked.

Needles in the back of my hand.

Tubes, tubes… thin wires taped to my chest. I’m breathing through a tube… rubber and gas. Hiss of breath. Breathe. Some kind of mask.

Wait a minute, wait a minute…

Fingers, toes, arms, legs, hands, head – nothing. I can’t move. I’m unable to move.

This is wrong. This is very wrong. This is a bad situation. Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute…

Where’s Ryan? Anyminute, sirhe’s coming now

Who are these people?

A door opens. Someone enters the room.

I hear voices again.

Sir. This is the consultant – Professor Casing.

The voices move closer. I can sense people standing beside me now. I can’t see them. My eyes are closed. I’m nothing – a petrified container. All I can do is lie still and listen.

Robert Smith. Sixteen years old. Suspected ulcer. Referred by his GP for an endoscopy. That’s a –

I know what an endoscopy is, Morris. What happened?

A man coughs, clearing his throat.

At nine forty-five this morning, the patient was anaesthetized and taken into the examination area where Dr Andrews began the procedure.

The anaesthetic we use is very light, not much more than a sedative, but it’s often enough to render the patient unconscious.

So he wouldn’t have known what was happening?

You’ve kept him unconscious since?

We thought it best.

As you know, endoscopy is a fairly straightforward procedure. A flexible fibre-optic tube is inserted into the patient’s mouth and eased down into the gastrointestinal tract. The endoscope sends images to a video screen, allowing us to visually examine the oesophagus, the stomach, parts of the small intestine and so on.

In this case, the images from the endoscope… the images displayed on the video screen were… not normal.

A button clicks, something hums.

This video shows the results of a normal endoscopy.

That’s the oesophagus… just there, look. You can see it quite clearly as the endoscope travels down. Now… into the stomach. There. See how it looks? That’s how it should look.

This is what Dr Andrews saw.

What the hell is that?

That, Mr Ryan, is the inside of this boy.

Christ… it looks like some kind of plastic.

This tubular area here is very short, no more than ten centimetres. Look.

Shit. What was that? Rewind it.

Click. Whirrr. Click.

What is that? Look at that.

See there? And there? That blackened area? And here.

These silvery filaments…

Another long silence.

It couldn’t be an instrument malfunction?

Everything’s been checked, double-checked. There’s nothing wrong with the instruments.

Is this the
only copy of the tape?

Andrews made a duplicate. Hayes has got it.

After a while I become aware of someone leaning over me. Studying me. A man. I can feel his breath on my face. The dark smell of a man. He breathes in deeply, holds it for a moment, then breathes out again. When he speaks, I can feel the heat of his whispered words on my skin.

What the hell are you?

Nothing, I want to tell him. I’m nothing. I’m just a kid with a bad belly. I’m Robert Smith. Whatever you think this is, whoever you are – you’re wrong. Listen, there’s been a mistake. Listen to me, look at me. I’m awake. I’m conscious…

But I can’t open my mouth.

I used to dream. When I was a little kid, I used to dream of a whirling wind that spun me around inside myself and sucked me down into terrible places. I never knew what the terrible places were, but I knew they were going to kill me. And I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to go to those terrible places. I just wanted to wake up. I knew that if I could wake myself up, I’d be all right. I knew that. And I knew what I had to do to wake myself up. I had to move. Move anything. A finger, a hand, a leg. Anything. Just move it. Move. Move. Move.

It was impossible then, but I always managed to kill the dream.

But this was no dream. This was nowhere near a dream. This was the worst thing imaginable. Worse than that: it was real. I was lying on a hospital bed, paralysed and mute, and unknown people were saying unknown things about me.

Some kind of plastic?

It couldn’t be real.

I can still hear the voices.

… and I want the immediate area quietly secured and Andrews and Ingle, get them debriefed and confined until further notice. I want his medical records, clothes, fingerprints, history… everything. I want to know everything about him. Was anyone with him when he arrived?

What about his parents? Where are they?

He’s a looked-after boy –

He’s an orphan. Abandoned at birth. He’s lived in Homes or with foster parents all his life. For the last year or so he’s been with a couple called Young. Peter and Bridget Young. We haven’t been able to contact Mrs Young, but we’ve been in touch with the husband. He’s been told there were minor complications and the boy needs to stay in overnight.

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