Lickies

Chapter 3
The Ultimate High

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Chapter Description: Wherein we learn a mixed, and not necessarily accurate, message about drugs.

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Lachlan knew, he knew he mustn’t. He reminded himself he’d made a vow. Looked himself over to reinforce how small he was already. But none of it mattered much anymore. Only the itch, burning in the forefront of his mind, had a voice that made any sense. The voice of no reason, God it was his refuge, his light of day, his one and only hope for relief. And it ticked and it ticked away.

He paced across the bedroom.

This was, of course, futile. He knew he didn’t have the will to wait out the next hour, let alone the rest of a life he’d have to spent without the things. Why put it off? What did he have to prove by being so stubborn? He should go, just go right now and ask Nadia for more lickies, more, instead of the antidote she’d promised if he was a good little boy who didn’t disturb her while she worked.

At least the aftertaste of soap was gone, finally. Nadia’s pancakes were as good as she said. They’d spent breakfast laughing at how baggy his ten-year-old’s PJs were on him; after, she’d dressed him in smaller jeans and a Squirtle T-shirt. Squirtle. A bit childish. He would’ve preferred Charizard, at least. But playing in his room, even with the remote control truck and the action figures, only held his attention so long. It subsided into frustration, which at first he could stave by losing himself in familiar boyish fun again. Then, all too predictably, the games started teasing at something far more enticing, and it could only be delayed for so long. Yes, now it overwhelmed his rational thoughts, and he knew that. And resisting had become a game in itself, outcome predetermined.

Midway through pacing, he kicked the monster truck across the room. It clattered against the wardrobe. The slight semblance of satisfaction faded quickly and left him only with sore toes. Lachlan groaned, an agitated noise that grew to a high-pitched wail in the back of his throat. This wasn’t fair! He threw himself on the bed and pummelled the pillow’s Enterprise starship with small fists. It alleviated nothing, though it did make him feel like a kid having a tantrum.

“It’s because of her anyway,” he sulked.

But any blame, or justification, circled teasingly around the real problem. A flutter sparked in his stomach whenever he thought of it. The drug. It was so wrong, perverse even, but for it, so exciting. Snaring just one pill would solve this... or well, maybe three or four. Stupid, reckless though it would be, all that mattered anyway was the rush, anything after that was negligible. Simply thinking of it was some relief. A relief that tempted him all the more.

The bedroom opened, and Lachlan’s stomach dropped, because there was Nadia. Dread seeped in from his half-remembered priority, the antidote she had adult power to revoke if he was bad.

“What’s with all the noise?” she said. “I told you to play in your room quietly.”

“But Nadia...”

“Yes?” She leant in the doorway, one hand on hip.

Lachlan paused where he lay. The sane part of his mind spoke up, said this exact thing had already happened a short while ago, and see where it got him? He ignored it. “I need more...”

“More what?”

“More lickies,” he murmured, gazing at the carpet.

“You’re kidding me. What, you don’t wanna stop ‘til you’re a baby again?”

He felt a stab of shame. Because partly, yes, hadn’t he wanted that from the start? Only, he hadn’t expected the change to be real. Or so... lasting.

He kept looking at her, pleadingly. She caved. “All right. One.”

Lachlan thrust off the bed. “But I need more than one!”

“Lachie. I’m not taking care of a nappy-soaking little drooler for the day. Now I’m offering you one, but if you can’t be grateful, maybe you don’t deserve any at all.”

“Nooo!” he whined.

“One, then?”

Nothing else in the world could possibly be this exasperating. How did children ever put up with this kind of injustice? “Fine. Just one.”

“And am I going to hear the magic word, or do you plan on getting angry with me because I gave you what you wanted again?”

At the slightest memory of soap, Lachlan shook his head fervently. It was almost enough to distract him... but not quite. What did she mean ‘magic word’? Open sesame? Oh – “Please?” he piped.

“That’s more like it.” Nadia went to her room and came back with one purple pill in plastic. Lachlan eyed it covetously. “Here,” she said. “I better not hear a squeak from you after this, mister.”

Lachlan unwrapped it, glowering, but careful not to direct his gaze at her. At the edge of his attention, he noticed she’d picked that camera off her bedside table as well. He didn’t care. One, tiny pill. It would be enough to stay this craving for a little while, perhaps.

The moment he had it out of packet, he put it in his mouth, before Nadia could think of a reason to take it away.

Blackcurrant fizzled on his tongue. It was just as strong as before, only this time, he wasn’t overwhelmed. Vaguely, he realised there was a reason for that. The word ‘tolerance’, drifted along the back of his mind.

“There,” Nadia said. “Better?”

The hit started to sink in. Lachlan nodded. The scratching in his head finally abated, giving way to the first-time flavour of blackcurrant juice. Summer days exploring the backyard with his friends. This taste was childhood itself. He closed his eyes, moaning out of relief, and rolled the lolly – no, drug – through the gap in his front teeth.

“And now what do we say?” Nadia asked.

“’Fank you, Nadia,” he said, as a haze set in.

“Good boy.”

The lolly disintegrated. Its effect radiated throughout his body, making him feel normal again. ‘Normal’ was this connectedness, which was crucial to the high; somehow, it was the very element of what it was all for. As Lachlan tuned in to his small form, he noticed one sensation in particular came forward...

He blinked, and rubbed his eyes. “Nadia... I’m tired...”

Nadia tilted her head. “You’re sleepy again, huh? Of course you are. Lickies do that to you after a while, don’t they.”

Lachlan drifted deeper into his own world, a heightened world of senses that lulled him closer to sleep. He swayed back to lean on the bed, and found arms waiting to catch him. Big arms. Cosy arms... Nadia picked him up, gently, and held him close to her breasts with both hands.

He had a notion that this was desirable somehow. But he couldn’t summon the effort to figure out that particular adult thought. It must be the warmth and enclosure of being cared for that he was after... yes, that was it... closer than ever, now, to that retrocaine promise.

“Poor Lachie,” Nadia said, as she rocked from side to side. "I don’t think you ever did clue in to what I’ve been up to, all this time...”

“Huh?” He couldn’t quite follow her.

“Never mind. You just go to sleep. You can have a nice nap, that’s normal for little kids. Besides,” she chuckled... “I reckon you’ll be easier to deal with asleep than full of energy. I’m gonna have a rambunctious little kindergartner on my hands when you wake up, aren’t I.”

Nadia’s lullaby voice flowed alongside a question in Lachie’s head. A retrocaine question. He gave it a cursory answer. And then he knew his body was morphing again.

He giggled as the ecstasy of the blackcurrant flavour spread to the tips of his toes and fingers and made them shrink. “I know why they’re called lickies,” he said.

“Do you now?”

Lachie gnawed his fingers idly, marvelling at how small they were, and how his teeth changed, becoming little teeth that had yet to fall out. “’Cause they’re like a lollipop,” he said. “You lick ‘em and they taste nice and then you feel nice and...” A yawn interrupted his train of thought, and then he lost it.

Nadia’s hand holding his back seemed to grow larger. “Oh, Lachie. They’re called lickies because I decided it was a cute name. You were right about the –caine suffix too. Beyond making you sleepy, it’s not strictly an anaesthetic. But I thought it was poetic. After all, aren’t we dulling the pain from all those adult years...”

Again, he had trouble following. She was using too many complicated words. Words he knew, but couldn’t understand because everything was so dreamlike. Nothing to worry about, though. The lickie assured him of that. He sank deeper into Nadia’s embrace, and closed his eyes.

Nadia lowered him down on the bed. It felt huge now. He rolled on his side as she pulled the sheets up around his shoulders. His jeans swallowed his feet... they were meant for a seven-year-old... seven was much bigger, and ten, so mature it was hard to believe he’d ever been that old. And fourteen, with those fiery emotions, that was basically grown up. No, safe under the covers for naptime, this was where he belonged.

A smile brightened his face as the transformation stopped. Lachie got an imaginative glimpse of his youthened body. He looked, he felt like he’d fit in fine with a kindergarten class, like Nadia had predicted. The memory of storytime and the alphabet song and chocolate milk cartons followed him to the border of sleep. A camera snap, borderline acknowledged, then dismissed. A depression on the mattress made him open his eyes briefly, to see Nadia sitting by his head.

“You’ve been so good,” she said. “My first human test and it went just like I expected, of course, except for one thing. I didn’t think it would be so addictive. You must’ve really wanted it...” She stroked his hair lightly, deep in thought. “Of course, I can’t present these findings, but I’ll know what to expect when I get funded for official testing. The mice and hamsters will do for my uni thesis. As for you, Lachie, well! I was gonna turn you back to normal. But we can’t have you spilling the beans, can we? I bet all those adult thoughts are just seeping out your ears anyway. It’ll be tricky, but I reckon we can forge a birth certificate... and then we’ll start you over in primary school... won’t that be exciting...”

Lachie floated with her voice into dreaming.

“Not quite what you were expecting from your first time doing drugs, though, huh.”

A vague sense of unease followed him into sleep. Something about Nadia’s little soliloquy was wrong, very very wrong, but the rest of him was too placated by exhaustion to place a finger on it. Then, sleep became a blanket around his head, softer than anything he’d known for so long. The dreams were fuzzy. The experiences were so simple. And behind it all, a thought half-heard, an undercurrent. It said, almost there. He was almost there!

Lachie hardly moved as he slept. He wore a smile the whole time because in his head, he lived in a cloud of longing so close to being fulfilled, his dreams became a sieve draining the clutter of seventeen senseless years to unearth something better, real, and natural again. This state of mind, beautiful unlike anything else, yet so vulnerable, and by its fragility it needed shelter, it needed to trust... such a wonderful thing, to believe completely that another person would take care of everything, would hold and love him...

This was what he’d been looking for.

Yes, and subconsciously, it was Nadia. Nadia was the one he trusted.

And, he was so close.

After some time drifting in nowhere, Lachie opened his eyes, completely refreshed and, in every sense, rejuvenated. It took a few moments to realise he had a thumb in his mouth. He didn’t take it out, though, simply sucked gently. It reminded him of lickies. He peered around at the bedroom’s blue wallpaper. Even his eyes felt younger.

He was five years old.

Lachie popped his thumb out of his mouth and looked at his hand. So little, and smooth. Would he really have to restart school, right back in kindergarten with other five-year-olds, colouring in and learning how to hold pencils and write letters? But why would he think that, this was only meant to be temporary... A background apprehension lit up in his mind. He could still remember the grown-up things he’d learnt, right? University, and high school?

A scan of his brain brought up advanced Maths, a sizeable vocabulary, social protocols, it was all there, only... inaccessible. Impossible to decipher. Like seeing the words and figures on a blackboard, but not understanding the first thing about them. Okay, he reasoned, so take it back. Primary school, something real easy, times tables. Four times four is... it’s...

But, what did times actually mean? All he saw in his head was a formula bigger kids could grasp. 4 x 4 =. Not something he was ready for, when he was still learning about adding up.

“Mmh...” He sat up, rubbing this forehead. How could this have happened? Piece by piece as he’d gotten younger, his adult knowledge had trickled away, so now he was five in body and mind. He really would have to start school again! Panic sparked in his chest at the thought. He’d already done all that! Primary school kids were supposed to look small and immature, not big and scary! He was supposed to be in Advanced Science at uni, not finger-painting in kindy! No, he had to fix this, it was a terrible mistake, and it was all because...

... of Nadia. It was all because of Nadia.

A fissure of horror opened up inside him as he remembered what she’d said when she laid him down for a nap.

It was her. She’d done this to him on purpose, as an experiment – she’d invented ilikia retrocaine herself!

And she had no intention of putting him back to normal.

Lachie clambered out of bed, eyes on the door, gripped with the thought that she might come in to check on him at any moment. His heart raced. His ragged breathing gave away his utterly childish voice. Faster breaths for a very young body, a body he’d be trapped in soon if he didn’t think fast. The antidote, of course. He had to get the antidote.

Lachie nearly tripped over his jeans on his way to the door. He leant and rolled up the cuffs to his ankles. The doorknob was at forehead height now. He opened it and crept out to the corridor.

Nadia’s room was on the left, door ajar. Lachie watched his shadow as he approached, careful that it didn’t give him away. Moving quietly was easier than ever, as he couldn’t have weighed more than fifty pounds. With his back against the wall, he peered in.

What struck him before looking inside was the sound of scurrying. The hamsters. She was kneeling by her bed as she observed them shifting sawdust with their tiny paws. Lachie watched for a moment. Nadia was a genius, of course. If anyone was going to discover the elixir of youth, it would be her. But apparently she had no interest in willing subjects. She thought it worked better adopting a friend as her five-year-old son whether he liked it or not. Well that wasn’t how this was going to end.

He took a deep, quiet breath, and leapt from one side of the door to the other, landing on his toes.

He paused. Had she seen him? The rustling of sawdust still sounded from her room. No, undetected, just like an action hero except with non-fiction stakes. And, a five-year-old body instead of a cool costume.

Lachie crept on to the kitchen and foyer. A plan half-formed in his mind. Nadia guarded the antidote. He could wait for her to check on him in his room, then slip into hers and bar the door with a chair. But it was risky. What if she came to the kitchen first? He needed something more reliable, a distraction...

His train of thought cut short when he came to the foyer, and something on the table by the TV caught his eye. An open folder, with photos laid out that he recognised instantly, because they were of him. Nadia’s flash camera had captured him at different stages of regression. One profile shot of himself at twenty-two. Everything about that look, not least of all the blond rat tail, looked dauntingly mature. It was his goal – but part of him wanted it to be a more long-term goal than the next few minutes.

Down the page were still-mature shots of himself at fourteen, looking dumbstruck in the mirror. At ten, eyes closed in bed. At seven, with open mouth revealing a missing tooth, where now he had his full set of baby teeth back. And finally, at five, asleep in bed again.

Beside each picture was a scrawled paragraph of handwriting. A pen lay discarded over the fresh ink. Lachie furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of it. Stupid adult writing! But even as he translated Nadia’s haphazard style, he realised, he no longer had any idea what the words meant anyway.

The very first word. He sounded it out aloud. ‘Prel-I-mine-arry.” He was supposed to know what that meant! The second, ‘regression’. How could he have ever understood this stuff? The only ones that stuck out were useless. Of. The. And. He. Lachie also recognised his own name, but those six letters were as complex as it got.

Until he reached a certain word and his intuition nudged him and whispered, this one’s important!

Lachie sounded it out. ‘Ant’, he recognised that bit. The rest of it proved trickier. “I do tea... I dot ee... I don’t... I-don’t... antidont!” That was it: antidont. The big white tablets Nadia had that could restore him to adulthood. He had a wonderful sense of accomplishment at figuring out a really hard word, and an important one at that... then, he remembered something that marred it.

Nadia had said she needed to be there when he took them, otherwise he could end up really old.

He slumped. The only one who knew how to use them, precisely the person he couldn’t ask! Which meant his only chance was if the rest of this folder contained instructions, but even if it did, he couldn’t read it! Maybe if he showed it to someone on the street and asked them to read it for him... better yet, take it to the police... but they wouldn’t believe him. Leaving this apartment was a sure ticket to foster care. This game had started between him and Nadia, and that’s how it would have to end.

He concentrated real hard on the words under ‘antidont’. He took the pen. Traced each syllable to sound them out, like he learnt in school. No use. He ended up just leaving messy lines over Nadia’s work.

“Awake, are we?”

Lachie jolted and spun around. Nadia’s silent entrance had coupled with his absorption in the inscrutable text. She might as well have teleported in. Lachie gaped up at her, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

She tilted her head. “Oh, are you trying to read my little project? Do you know what it says?”

Slowly, he shook his head.

“Aw. Too many hard words, huh?” She came over, standing above him to peer at the folder as well. Lachie swallowed hard. An idea came to mind, this wasn’t over yet, he still had a chance to outsmart her...

“What does it say?” he asked.

She looked at him. One slender hand brushed through his hair. “Never mind, sweet. It’s all clever uni stuff, you wouldn’t understand it anyway.”

Damnit! “Can you tell me anyway?” He tried to make the question come across merely curious.

Nadia regarded the folder as though considering it. “Hm. Do you know what ‘dopamine dialysate’ is?”

“Yes...”

“Really! Go on then.”

Lachie wavered. He couldn’t even think of something that might pass for a guess.

Nadia laughed and leant down to his level, and pulled him into a hug. “Oh, Lachie. You’re too cute. You don’t need to mind all this complicated grown-up stuff anymore. Pretty soon you’ll be back in kindy, learning things at your own level with other boys and girls your age, and you won’t have to think about boring neuroplasticity and psychopharmacology for a long time.”

Lachie blushed, wrapped up in her arms and feeling a tinge of that too-familiar yearning again. He tried to push away. “Nadia! I just want you to read it!”

“Hm.” She pulled back, still holding him around the waist, and examined his eyes. “I didn’t think any of this would matter to you by now. Maybe you need a longer nap? You were only out forty minutes.”

This wasn’t getting him anywhere, except dangerously close to craving IRC again. He needed to break the pattern... “I want some orange juice,” he said, the first thing that came to mind to get her away from him. “I’m not tired, I’m thirsty.”

“Mm, well remember the magic word?”

“Please...”

“Okay.” She stood to go to the kitchen.

At this, he had another idea, and one so compelling it took a few seconds for him to calculate that it might actually work. As she reached the fridge, he shouted a little too quickly, “Nadia! Can I pour it?”

She gave it some thought. “No, Lachie. You might spill it.”

Exactly. “I promise I won’t,” he said, trotting up to her. “Just ‘cause I can’t read hard stuff, that doesn’t mean I can’t do big kid things. Please?” He rested fingers on the bench at chin height, giving her the most endearingly childish look he could muster.

Nadia smiled. “All right, big guy. Show me how it’s done.”

Yes! Lachie picked up the two-litre carton with both hands. It was actually heavy and hard to balance. No wonder children his age weren’t normally allowed to pour drinks. He managed to look like he was concentrating as he tilted it, though really, he was keeping his breathing steady. Would she just think this was cute, or would she know he’d done it on purpose and give him a spanking? Part of him was sure she’d know. Adults always knew with this stuff.

He tipped the carton so it narrowly missed the cup, pouring juice all over the bench.

“Oh, Lachie...”

Lachie hopped back and let the carton fall on its side. Orange juice glugged over the edge of the counter, onto the kitchen tiles and, better still, the foyer carpet, where it stained. Nadia picked the carton up before it could do more damage, and gave him an amused look.

“Maybe we’re not quite ready for pouring big cartons yet,” she said. She poured the cup for him, and picked it up out of the puddle of orange juice dripping off the sides. “Take it to your room. I’ll clean this up.”

Lachie took it with both hands and turned to dash out of sight, barely concealing a huge grin.

“Lachie?”

He froze.

“What do you say?”

It took him a second. “Um. Sorry for spilling the juice, Nadia.”

“That’s okay. Though, I think we can drop ‘Nadia’ and go with ‘Mummy’ from now on, don’t you?”

Sucking idly on his lower lip, Lachie nodded, and spun around to run off again. Nadia was finding cleaning utensils under the sink. Great. That gave him a few minutes. He went to his own room first, left the drink on his bedside table, and closed the door loudly on his way out so she’d think that’s where he was. Then, heart pounding, aware of how little time he had, he slipped into her room, and looked up at the wardrobe.

He’d have to take his chances with the antidont. Smuggle them, suck on one when he was alone, and see what happened. He could perfect it once he was old enough not to be under Nadia’s power. But to get that far, he’d have to act fast.

First, he dragged the chair to the closet, grunting as he pulled. Who would’ve thought the frail wooden thing would be so heavy? Though, he caught sight of his little arms in the mirror with baby fat rounding the elbows, and his cherubic young face, and then it made sense.

He climbed up, awkwardly, and reached. The top was well out of range. Nadia needed this chair to reach her stash, so at three foot six, he didn’t stand a chance.

Lachie’s eyes darted to the door. No sound from the kitchen. There was no telling how long before she came to check on him. He breathed fast, imagining her walking through any second. He was going to be in so much trouble.

Adrenaline propelling him to action, Lachie hopped down and swivelled the chair around so its back rested against the mirror. The frame had three planks of wood up its back with spaces in between. That would be his ladder. Clambering up, he placed a foot on the first makeshift rung. The chair tilted precariously, but held.

It was a balancing act. He climbed to the second rung, cautious, yet quick under the time pressure. Straining his short arms from here, he could brush his fingertips on the closet’s top.

It needed just a bit more...

Looking down, holding his breath, he raised his other foot to the chair’s top rung. He hoisted up. It wobbled and he braced his legs to keep it from falling. If it thumped on the carpet, she’d come, and that would be his last chance blown...

Lachie took a hissing intake as he fought for control. He propped his elbows over the top of the closet and managed to bring the chair into unwieldy balance. There he stayed, frozen for a moment. It wasn’t going to tip... as long as he moved very carefully.

He looked up. There in front of him was the basket. Surely this was the part where Nadia walked in and saw him...

He reached, and pulled it closer. Inside: dozens of wrappers with all different colours. And the moment he saw them, a sensation erupted inside him so tangible that he felt it spark within his stomach, and so strong he nearly lost balance. A wave cascaded through his head. These, these sweet things, here they were, as many as he wanted to shovel into his mouth.

He’d forgotten how strong the need was. Just a look, and it pressed on all sides, altering his mind, igniting a fervour that was rapture to even think about. He breathed a rattling long breath, eyes fixed on them. Lickies. Ilikia retrocaine.

And behind them, as larger white balls: the cure.

Lachie reached forward. He knew those were what he’d come for. He knew... except, the lickies were there too. Not just one teasing measly little thing. Lots of them. As many as he could count to anymore. And desire, oh it crushed everything else. Crushed reason into insignificance.

Yes, it would make him even smaller than he’d already become. Yes, more than a few would kill him. Yes, he’d be throwing away his one shot at returning to his real age. But what trivial concerns. What blether, irrelevant against this most powerful of drives. He could feel the peace of it already. Could taste it, promising that this time, this hit, it would be the real one, the last one, the ultimate high.

He hesitated.

His hand, his small fingers, dithered between them. Cure, or curse. And he had to choose now.

And he chose... of course, he wasn’t really this impulsive kindergarten child, he was twenty-two-year-old Lachlan Arthur, sensible, mature, the answer was obvious, he chose –

But he needed it!

He actually physically needed it, every fibre of his little body knew that, and having it in arm’s reach swamped him with madness. The lust of it, his head swum in a liquid of temptation impregnable to reason, so of course the only option was to give in. He crunched a handful of lickies into his fist. A tingle ran up his arm and it was liberation from sanity. And it felt so good.

No. No! He had to unclench his fist, drop them back in the pile. Otherwise he was going to end up a baby or worse. That simple, and equally simple: willing those few rejuvenated muscles to loosen their grip. As simple, apparently, as it was impossible.

A cabinet door slammed in the kitchen. A breath caught in Lachie’s chest. For three full seconds, he couldn’t pry his eyes from the hallway.

It might already be too late to put the chair back where it should be and hide in his room. But maybe, if he moved now. The only way out was to see these things for what they were: the enemy. Seducing him, killing him, and he the hero, he had to do something superhuman in will by breaking this spell. By dropping them now and taking the antidont.

Right? Because he was the hero. He’d been tricked, betrayed, and only his quick thinking had saved him so far. He had to outsmart the villain, Nadia, against all odds. By being strong, by making the courageous the heroic choice and –

And humming a confident contented tune, Nadia came walking down the hallway.

Stuck with his hand in the figurative special brownies jar, Lachie peered on with frantic eyes.

Her shadow formed a silhouette on the corridor wall. There, it stopped. He could see the outlines of her nose and eyelashes. One more step and she’d see him. She didn’t take it. Time didn’t move.

She murmured, “Hm,” and turned around.

Lachie watched her shadow pass out of sight on its way back to the kitchen. He couldn’t believe it.

He paused only the slightest instant to absorb this closest call. A resolve joined the pounding in his blood. He dropped the handful of pills, grabbed blindly for the white ones at the back, and at the rustle and the touch of plastic, he immediately started climbing down.

The chair rocked and he nearly slipped, but his feet hitting the seat kicked its four legs back in place and centred it. Lachie hardly noticed. He sprang down to the carpet, pulled the chair back beside the bedside table not caring for its weight, and leapt into the corridor. Gaze shot left; Nadia wasn’t there. His heartrate was crazy. He dashed to his door. Wrenched it open, threw himself inside. The time it took to close it without making noise stretched longer and longer as he looked out expecting Nadia to appear and spot him at the last possible moment. But the door shut quietly and unnoticed.

An aftershock of adrenaline flooded his veins.

Lachlan’s head spun as he gazed around the room. Never had being in a little kid’s bedroom felt so safe. Yes safe, he was safe and all the toys and childish light wallpaper concealing him in the security of his altered persona. He slumped against the bed frame, small limbs still coursing with energy.

And both sides of his thoughts, adult logic and child’s emotions, agreed. That was exciting. That was intense. That was something straight out of a super cool story, and he was the hero, and he had won. He swayed his head, smiling, truly high on his accomplishment.

He uncurled his hand.

There in his small palm was a cluster of lickies.

Lachie looked at them, still smiling. That was fine. He’d meant to make the hero’s choice, meant to take the antidont. He really had. And this was his reward. Ilikia retrocaine lay there, seven tablets (he had to count slowly, numbers weren’t so intuitive anymore) in a rainbow-esque palette. Perfect.

He would take them now. There was no longer a question. He began unwrapping them.

The need was no longer unbearable. It became a caressing river of anticipation. Because he didn’t have to fight it anymore. He didn’t even have to wait. He dropped the first onto his tongue.

Strawberry lit his mouth like wildfire. He took two more. The urge was already abating into bliss so high it floated him above his thoughts.

They were still there, though, screaming for him to stop before he shrunk into prebirth, but it didn’t matter one bit. He slid in mango and orange to join strawberry, lemon and banana. He was a little kid in God’s own candy store.

The colours flooding the inside of his mouth grew even more intense, but curiously remained manageable. Nadia had succeeded in more than creating the world’s first age-reversing serum; she’d also invented the most addictive drug possible in one stroke. And he’d thought it hadn’t warped his mind enough, at the start. Lachie giggled. Tolerance and complete dependence in twelve hours. He didn’t quite get the joke, after all those words were beyond him now, but he knew he’d been silly.

He sucked up apple and lime. He licked the dye off his fingers like a messy child with ice cream. The first pills were already melting. He knew he’d disappear soon, but he didn’t mind. He relaxed against the bed, and closed his eyes.

The taste was already sweeping the rest of his body, and with it came wondrous insights into himself. Not anything he could put into big words anymore. But he started to understand how this thin, fragile form wasn’t built to survive on its own. By nature, he needed people to look after him, and he wasn’t ashamed of it. And that was why he had such strong needs for affection, and safety. Instincts that overrode the adult part of him that thought it wasn’t normal to be so little.

He saw how his young brain absorbed so much. Open to every experience, learning from a complex world he knew so little about. And almost all of it subconscious. All forming the foundations of his beliefs, the deep tacit ones, the very essence of his primordial personality. That was what it was like, being five.

And the wonder, the drive for fun and adventure that so defined childhood. It was there so his young mind could explore as much of the world as it could. And the world was scary. So he needed wise strong adults to be there for him. He was only five years old, after all.

Being back in that mindset again, after so long away as a grown-up, he finally grasped why that felt so refreshing. But also why it wasn’t enough. Because behind it, something even more amazing beckoned.

Eyes closed, Lachie eased the last pill past his lips.

A pleasant surprise hit his tongue as it tasted, appropriately, of milk. Warm flowing milk. And as always he tasted it as if for the first time. And what memory did it back?

One of pure love. Of resting in the arms of a goddess. As he had in Nadia’s while he was seven. Only much, much better. And of suckling. That most infantile drive for closeness that was unconditional love, to love without a single other thing in the world.

The milk pill fizzled away to join the others flowing through his system. This one filled him with such a completely babyish feeling. It was so soft. It lured him away from all these heavy thoughts. Away from needing anything but the simplest, most real things. And this time when the question arose in little Lachie’s head, it was simpler than ever.

Do you want this?

At once he understood, he wasn’t going to die. He was only going to let go of something. And as ilikia retrocaine showed him what that something was, and what he’d be without it, an even greater sense of peace and willingness passed through him. All along, this desire had been more than mere chemical addiction, he knew that now. For no one could possibly understand this, as he did now, and fail to long for it completely.

It was taking him back to the start. Infancy. Every time the drug had asked if he was ready to change, it was always an offer to get closer back to that wholeness, no further. And... he’d always been ready. Truth was, he’d never even wanted to leave. That was why he’d dared try retrocaine, in the chance he’d get a glimmer of that stolen home he needed back so badly. Never had he dreamed he’d have the choice to stay.

Taking the drug and not the cure was no mistake. It was the best choice he’d ever made.

Gradually, his young body started shrinking.

His arms and legs became stouter, and pudgier. His face rounded and grew less defined. He could feel the changes running through every cell. The first time he was a child, Lachie had found growing up fascinating. Now, he opened his eyes to watch the process rapid and in reverse one last time. The rolled-up jeans swallowed his feet. The Squirtle shirt sleeves draped down lower to his elbows. He watched his hands shrink to the clumsy proportions of a preschooler, and laughed. His voice, squeakier than ever, had taken on an even more carefree and oblivious tone.

He was aware this time of the way things vanished from his head. Counting past twenty, the alphabet song, what order the days of the week went in. Of course, once they were gone, he could no longer recall what was missing. His attention wandered to what else was happening. Regressing through such fundamental years joined the physical and mental processes completely, for his preschool child’s brain no longer had the capacity of older years, of abstract thoughts and an identity that contradicted his emotions. Lachie knew he was really an adult. But he no longer afforded it great significance. It was just another of the few strange things he understood about this magical universe.

Crossing the border from three to two, he pulled himself out of his jeans and stood, unsteadily, on tiny legs. The big kid shirt draped down to his waist just as his adult shirt had when he’d first shrunk into childhood. That was how far away primary school seemed now – as far as adulthood had then. Lachie giggled, only getting the gist of any of this, but finding it all very funny. He took a few bouncing steps towards the enormous door... and then his legs couldn’t support him at that pace anymore. He fell to the carpet, and looked about at the room. It had all gotten so much bigger...

From the other side of the door came a voice as it swung open: “Lachie, I just noticed you traced lines all over –” And there stood Nadia. Huge tall Nadia. Lachie gazed up from where he sat at her shins. And she looked down at him, blanketed in his shirt, surrounded with empty wrappers, and blinked.

And smiled.

“Oh, you are cheeky,” she said.

Lachie beamed at her. Yes he was. He couldn’t quite grasp why. It had to do with how he was really grown up. But yes, he was. He laughed wildly.

The last changes set in. His chubby body became baby-soft as he regressed to just one year old. Teeth were vanishing to gum. Lachie’s face became thoroughly undefined. Only the barest trace remained of how he used to look as a young boy, which was how he’d look again a few years of learning to walk and use the potty down the track. Because he’d quite forgotten those things. His reduced muscles left him on his tiny hands and knees as the shirt covered all but his head. Fine wisps of blond hair flicked across his eyelashes but shrunk too, back to the almost-bald head of a little baby.

“Yes, you’re so naughty,” Nadia said. She leant and scooped him up, wrapping the shirt around his form now so small he could fit in just one of her arms. “But you’re also way too adorable. So I forgive you.”

Lachie frowned. He cycled his arms and legs out, experimenting with the motion of such tiny, helpless limbs. It was getting hard to understand what she was saying. But her cooing tone was what mattered. Friendly. Maternal. He cuddled against her breasts. The baby boy had no thought except how nice this felt.

Dimly, he realised some important change was stopping. As with the rest of the big confusing world, he didn’t really understand. He was only a baby now.

Nadia toyed with his lips, looking inside his mouth to see he’d just started teething. “You must be about nine or ten months old,” she mused. “Did you find the hit you were after?”

“Goh bah!” Lachie exclaimed, kicking his legs excitedly.

“That’s good then. I suppose that’s what counts, right.” She sat on the bed with him curled up against her, swaying him hypnotically in her arms. “Oh Lachie. You’re gonna be a handful. Taking care of a baby on top of everything else. I’m gonna need Bec and Jodie’s help...”

Lachie drifted away from what she was saying. He couldn’t figure it out anymore. He waved his stubby fingers in the air and giggled at them. Nadia’s voice became like a song without meaning, just feelings.

Looks like you ended up giving me more than twenty, didn’t you Lachie? Yeah, you gave me twenty-one years instead. And now I bet it’s nice and cuddly in that little head...

... back in diapers, though, huh? Not where you expected things to end up? But maybe you were hoping, somewhere deep down. I knew you needed that comfort more than anything. Otherwise you wouldn’t have done it. So how’s that high? Must’ve satisfied everything, you got that biggest hit you needed...

He’d found the ultimate high for sure. The gentleness of absolute trust and no more worry. An infant’s world, full of bright colours and incomprehensible sights, and nice smells, and safety.

We’re gonna need a new room for you... and a cradle... I thought you’d end up five or six, but you needed to go all the way...

Hey Jodie. Yeah. Oh yeah? He’s fine. I’ve got him in my arms right now. In fact, on your way back could you pick up some boys’ Huggies? Yeah, he did. I know. You’re gonna love him. Seeya soon.

When Lachie looked up, Nadia had one of those box things up near her ear and she was talking to it. He had a vague memory of using one. He couldn’t puzzle out what it was for. And it didn’t matter. Even if he knew its name once, it wasn’t for him anymore.

Baby Lachie snoozed off, to the soothing song of Nadia thinking out loud. She felt so warm. And deep inside he did too, cosy knowing he’d found what he was looking for, really found it, after all this time. Being back where he belonged was heaven. He curled his head in, closing his eyes.

I told you from the start drugs weren’t for you, didn’t I? If you’d have known, you might not have tried them. But it’s better this way. Like a cautionary tale, don’t do drugs, you might find yourself trippin’ blissfully back to infancy. Ego obliteration and everything. But now you’re there, it’s not so bad is it...

... I’ll raise you just right, Lachie, I promise. Mummy will take care of you. Mummy won’t ever let anything hurt you. Mummy loves you.

Mummy loves you...

It seemed only an instant later that the other girl arrived, the big tall blond one. Lachie babbled and reached out for her. She smiled when she saw him. She liked babies. She had a crinkly packet of something special under her arms.

“Na-pee,” he said.

That’s right, nappies for little baby Lachie!

They talked excitedly between each other as they laid him on the floor to powder his bottom and put the diaper on. The powder smelt sweet and, like the lickies, brought him back to the first time. They were talking about him and how great it was that he was a baby again. He was happy too. Especially when Jodie helped Nadia strap the cushy diaper around his waist. He kicked his legs, feeling it crinkle, and laughed and cooed. He felt right at home in it. Safe from accidents, so Mummy could change him whenever he filled it. All up to her now.

He rolled over and crawled across the carpet while they watched him adoringly. It was a big world to explore. And so absorbing that he didn’t notice when Mummy left him in Jodie’s care to go get something until Jodie picked him up and cuddled him. Jodie liked children. Now she was chatting away about how cute he was as a baby, and how sweet it was he wasn’t grown up anymore. That was adorable, she said, an adult turned into a little diapered tot.

“I’a bi’ bah,” he said, remembering.

That’s right, you were a big boy, just today when I saw you, you were ten! But now you’re only a baby, aren’t you sweetie? Yes you are. Yes Lachie is, he’s a little bubba again.

Lachie laughed as she played with his nose.

Nadia, he’s so good-natured now...

I know. It’s gorgeous, isn’t it.

Mummy was back, with a folder full of photos and writing. Lachie leaned to see. He recognised the grown-up and the teenager and the children in the photos were him, but bigger. Then he lost interest. He sucked on his thumb, and relaxed as Jodie handed him back to Mummy. He made a game of stretching his toes up to his mouth, but it was tricky when he was in such big arms.

It didn’t matter that he used to be an adult, he decided. He was back at the start now. Everything else was over.

Lachie gazed around the room as Mummy told Jodie a funny story. It was about him. About how their ploy to pretend Bec and Jodie didn’t know she’d rejuvenated him had worked. About how setting up a child’s room had worked too, just as she’d expected, easing his mental regression with familiar children’s toys. Then she showed her the lines he’d traced on the folder to sound out the words, and Jodie fussed about how cute that was too. She even tickled his chin and told him so.

And they made plans for him, things they’d have to buy, babysitting rosters for ‘Aunts’ Bec and Jodie. They fantasised together about putting him in a stroller, bottle-feeding, every measure of baby things made all the more exciting by how old he used to be, and how he’d willingly, unwittingly, made himself this way. They’d be changing his diapers until he could go potty again. They’d take him to nursery to play with other tots, they’d feed him in a high chair with a bib on, they’d have him watching colourful gentle children’s shows to reinforce his infant mindset. And when he learnt the most basic things over again, numbers and letters and words, they’d be there to help him along, knowing full well what he no longer cared for – that he’d done it all before, that he used to be grown up like them. That magical chance at a second childhood. How many people had that blessing?

Lachie slowly fell to sleep while they talked. Resting in Mummy’s arms, sucking his thumb, wearing his diaper, was like floating on clouds.

And when ilikia retrocaine came to visit in his wordless dreams, it wasn’t taunting and tempting him anymore, no. It was carrying him home. Home to the warmth of pure love and simplicity. Just like it promised.

 

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