taking us, and I can’t ask Mum to tell him for me because she’d say ‘USE YOUR WORDS, RUBY,’ meaning my mouth and that’s even worse than using the Voice Magic voice. And – this is the big emergency part – I want to ask him to take us all the way to Deadhorse. I’m sure that he’ll say yes and then Mum won’t look so worried.
When Anaktue was on the radio news, Adeeb had felt Yasmin’s tension in the confines of the cab. He didn’t think it likely that she was a relative or friend of a villager, but the British wildlife film-maker would make sense of things. He’d seen two wedding rings on her finger at the beginning of the journey and assumed that her husband was dead. He didn’t know where Anaktue was, but thought it must be near the Arctic Circle. Maybe she and Ruby were on a kind of pilgrimage to see the place where he died.
He heard a strange electronic voice – ‘Thank you for taking us.’ He glanced across at Ruby and saw that she was typing
‘I’m very glad I did,’ he said carefully and saw his words appearing on her screen in type.
‘And thank you for linking up your satellite receiver to my laptop.’
He should learn sign language. The whole world should learn. There would be no foreign accent marking you as different and if you wanted to block out abuse you could just turn away or shut your eyes. And if everyone could sign, if he could, then this great little girl wouldn’t have some strange voice speaking for her but her own hands instead. Although he wouldn’t be able to watch her sign or sign back and drive at the same time.
‘It means Daddy can email me,’ the electronic voice said and he saw Ruby smiling at him hard.
So her father must be alive and his guess about him being the British film-maker must be wrong. But Yasmin and Ruby were signing to each other and the anxiety in both of them was clear and Ruby was looking increasingly distressed.
The radio was playing classical music again. He tapped his finger on the steering wheel along to the music as a signal that he hadn’t noticed their silent argument. After about ten bars, their signed conversation finished and Ruby looked unhappy and Yasmin more anxious. She also looked exhausted.
‘Do you want to sleep a while?’ he asked her. ‘This stretch of road is not too bad and I’ll wake you when we get near the cafeteria stop.’
A look between mother and child, though they didn’t sign anything to one another.
‘Thank you,’ she said. He was pretty sure she closed her eyes so he couldn’t ask her any questions.
‘Shall I tell you something interesting about Alaska?’ he asked Ruby, his words coming up on her screen in type.
‘Yes,’ he heard back, in that peculiar voice.
‘The Russians sold Alaska to the Americans.’
‘How much did it cost?
‘Seven dollars and twenty-two cents an acre.’
‘That’s not very much.’
‘No.’
Don’t give them a history lesson every dinner, Visha said to him, pleading. But the boys wanted him to; surely they weren’t yet old enough yet to be humouring him.
‘I think the Dalton Highway is a dull name for this road, don’t you?’ he said. ‘When you think about what they could have called it.’
‘Ghost Train Road?’ she said.
‘Ghost Train, Roller-coaster Road?’
‘Ghost Train, Roller-coaster, Ice-rink Road.’
‘Exactly. So many very good names, but they called it after a man called James Dalton. And do you know what he did?’
‘What?’
‘He put spy satellites all the way around the Arctic Circle, so America would know if someone was invading. Probably the Russians, hoping to get their land back, I expect.’
She smiled and he was glad. But he wondered if that was why northern Alaska felt hostile to him. It wasn’t just the unholy cold and bleakness and darkness, this place was a frontier where people didn’t circle their wagons but their spy satellites. The Governor had spoken about eco-terrorists, though Adeeb knew that the man who
When Anaktue was on the radio news, Adeeb had felt Yasmin’s tension in the confines of the cab. He didn’t think it likely that she was a relative or friend of a villager, but the British wildlife film-maker would make sense of things. He’d seen two wedding rings on her finger at the beginning of the journey and assumed that her husband was dead. He didn’t know where Anaktue was, but thought it must be near the Arctic Circle. Maybe she and Ruby were on a kind of pilgrimage to see the place where he died.
He heard a strange electronic voice – ‘Thank you for taking us.’ He glanced across at Ruby and saw that she was typing
‘I’m very glad I did,’ he said carefully and saw his words appearing on her screen in type.
‘And thank you for linking up your satellite receiver to my laptop.’
He should learn sign language. The whole world should learn. There would be no foreign accent marking you as different and if you wanted to block out abuse you could just turn away or shut your eyes. And if everyone could sign, if he could, then this great little girl wouldn’t have some strange voice speaking for her but her own hands instead. Although he wouldn’t be able to watch her sign or sign back and drive at the same time.
‘It means Daddy can email me,’ the electronic voice said and he saw Ruby smiling at him hard.
So her father must be alive and his guess about him being the British film-maker must be wrong. But Yasmin and Ruby were signing to each other and the anxiety in both of them was clear and Ruby was looking increasingly distressed.
The radio was playing classical music again. He tapped his finger on the steering wheel along to the music as a signal that he hadn’t noticed their silent argument. After about ten bars, their signed conversation finished and Ruby looked unhappy and Yasmin more anxious. She also looked exhausted.
‘Do you want to sleep a while?’ he asked her. ‘This stretch of road is not too bad and I’ll wake you when we get near the cafeteria stop.’
A look between mother and child, though they didn’t sign anything to one another.
‘Thank you,’ she said. He was pretty sure she closed her eyes so he couldn’t ask her any questions.
‘Shall I tell you something interesting about Alaska?’ he asked Ruby, his words coming up on her screen in type.
‘Yes,’ he heard back, in that peculiar voice.
‘The Russians sold Alaska to the Americans.’
‘How much did it cost?
‘Seven dollars and twenty-two cents an acre.’
‘That’s not very much.’
‘No.’
Don’t give them a history lesson every dinner, Visha said to him, pleading. But the boys wanted him to; surely they weren’t yet old enough yet to be humouring him.
‘I think the Dalton Highway is a dull name for this road, don’t you?’ he said. ‘When you think about what they could have called it.’
‘Ghost Train Road?’ she said.
‘Ghost Train, Roller-coaster Road?’
‘Ghost Train, Roller-coaster, Ice-rink Road.’
‘Exactly. So many very good names, but they called it after a man called James Dalton. And do you know what he did?’
‘What?’
‘He put spy satellites all the way around the Arctic Circle, so America would know if someone was invading. Probably the Russians, hoping to get their land back, I expect.’
She smiled and he was glad. But he wondered if that was why northern Alaska felt hostile to him. It wasn’t just the unholy cold and bleakness and darkness, this place was a frontier where people didn’t circle their wagons but their spy satellites. The Governor had spoken about eco-terrorists, though Adeeb knew that the man who
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