“He’ll never make it” I said. It was the usual scene at the Coldharbour Barrier: crowds of young children, all hoping for a glimpse of their parents. Most didn’t stand a chance, of course - only the strongest adults were able to force their way to front of the Barrier. “There are too many” I warned Helen. “If he tries to get any closer he’ll be crushed.” “No, he’s nearly pushed his way through.” “Where?” “Over there, Thomas.” I saw him at last - a big man making his way to the Barrier edge. The last few steps were the most dangerous. Thousands of other parents were jostling for position. If he slipped he’d probably be trampled to death. With great care, making sure not to shove anyone else down into Coldharbour’s well-trodden mud, he squeezed
past two burly men and one frantic-looking mother. Helen walked up as close to him as she could. She wasn’t crying, though she had been on the way here. As soon as he saw her, she manufactured a smile from somewhere and reached out her hands. At the same time, he pressed his palms against the Barrier. For a moment their fingers were so close that they were almost touching. “Dad?” she whispered. “I know” he said. Helen’s father. Until this morning, he’d been the only adult inside Coldharbour, but just after dawn he was snatched away. He’d been gathering food at one of the drop-off points when the edge had simply moved. Only a little. Just enough to place his feet outside. No touching was possible between them now. No talking, either. The invisible boundary that kept adults out of Coldharbour and children inside,
once we arrived, didn’t allow any communication. All along the Barrier, separated families could only strive to read each others lips. Helen, of course, being a mind-reader, was able to do far more than that. I stayed back to give her a little privacy. She didn’t get much time with her dad, though. He was a powerfully built man, and held his ground for longer than most, but he wasn’t the only desperate parent, and was soon dragged out of sight again. Helen remained at the Barrier edge for a while, composing herself before she returned to me. It was hard to believe that only a few weeks had passed since all the children in the world started making their way towards Coldharbour. It wasn’t much of a place to come to - just a few miles of nondescript mud bordering the sea. That hadn’t stopped us running crazily towards it, of course. First me, jogging through the night, swinging my plastic carrier bag. Followed
by five other special children. Then, once we were there, the others - every single child in the world. Millions had already squashed themselves inside Coldharbour or spilled out into the surrounding countryside. Others, from remoter places, were still on their way to us. Only Helen knew how terrible some of their journeys had become. “It’s not so bad once they can see Milo” she said, reading my mind. “They feel safer then, at least.” I glanced up, and there he was, the reason we were all huddled in this flat, desolate place: Milo the silver child. Amazingly, I’d grown used to his gigantic body hovering over us, sometimes close to the ground, sometimes higher, but never straying from Coldharbour’s skies. His colossal bald head gleamed like a disc of light. His body was over four miles long. His wings, several times that size, extended so far into the distance that on overcast days you had no idea where the tips ended.