Pax laughed. “Ellis Rogers, no one would ever demand compensation to keep people alive. You make us sound like monsters, as if people wouldn’t help others unless they got something out of it.”
Ellis thought to argue, to point out how competition kept a society strong, how altruism could lead to resentment. He felt he needed to defend the system he’d grown up in, only he couldn’t figure out why. It also wasn’t in his best interest, since all he had were a pair of diamond earrings and a few expensive rings he had forgotten to leave behind, none of which appeared to have any value in that world.
“I’ll take you to Pol as soon as you’re ready.”
“What will happen then?”
“You’ll be introduced to the Council, I assume. Lots of questions. Then I suspect you’ll be introduced into society, and you’ll no doubt become a very big celebrity. I can’t imagine anyone in Hollow World not completely bleezing when they hear about you.”
Ellis had no idea what that meant, but if it was related to being pleased, he didn’t share the opinion. So far only Pax had shown any sort of pleasure at his existence. “I don’t know what bleezingmeans, but I doubt Vin did it.”
“Vin is…” Pax squinted in an effort to think.
“Used to being the unique one?”
“Exactly.”
Ellis glanced out at the view again. The falselight sun was completely above the horizon, and the vast atrium was filled with what reminded Ellis of a bright, clear, autumn sort of light. He wondered if they had seasons. “Will I be coming back here afterward?”
“Pol will likely invite you to stay in Wegener.”
“What’s that?”
“I guess you could call it the chief city of Hollow World. It’s on the Antarctic Plate in the Kerguelen micro continent. Each plate has its own center, and most are bigger, but each plate sends a representative to Wegener. Some of the best artists work there, so it’s one of the most beautiful places in Hollow World.”
“It’s awfully beautiful right here,” Ellis said, continuing to look out over the balcony.
The conversation held a tone of solemn finality. Maybe there was some truth to the idea that Ellis could see what others couldn’t. The way Pax had come out that morning, so quiet and with such a soft tone of voice—apologetic, embarrassed even. The admission of admiration had borne all the openness of a deathbed farewell. Even if Pax refused to admit it, Ellis understood this was the last time they would be together. This conversation was goodbye.
Ellis felt a distinct sinking sensation, a general depression that settled over him, making it difficult to breathe, much the same way as the fibrosis. Pax and Alva were his only friends in this strange new world, and the idea of separating from them was just so painful—and ironic, he realized, as he’d just abandoned a whole existence, giving precious little thought to those he left behind. He had sacrificed Peggy and Warren, rolling the dice on a better trade. But that was before he knew what the future held, or so he told himself. So far everyone else he’d met hadn’t been very welcoming. He and Pax had shared a life-and-death moment that left a mark and made him feel they were connected.
And then there was just plain old traditional paranoia. He worried about Pax’s safety.
“You said you never met him, right?” Ellis asked.
“Pol? No. I’m an arbitrator, and I’ve never been a Council member or—”
“I meant Geo-24.”
“Oh—no. Well, it’s possible. I met a geomancer at a Miracles Day party once.”
“When?”
“Maybe a year ago.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t remember. Like anyone, I was just excited to actually speak to a geomancer, you know? They so infrequently appear in public. I think the encounter only lasted a few minutes. Just some small talk. I probably asked a bunch of stupid questions, like anyone would. What it’s like being a geomancer. Stuff like that.”
“Don’t you find it strange that Geo-24 was looking up your record about a year ago?” Ellis asked. “And don’t you find it odd that he instructed his vox to contact you, and only you, in the event of his death?”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t strange, but it also doesn’t make sense, and there’s no point in pondering crazy things that can never be answered.”
The quartet stopped their concert and began packing up as more people arrived with more balls and another group approached the big pond with toy boats.
“I’ll be able to visit, right?” Ellis asked, looking back.
Pax reached out, took his hand, and gave it a squeeze. “I think…I think it would be better for everyone if maybe you didn’t.”
“Why?”
“It—it would just…it would just be better if you didn’t.”
“Is it Vin?”
Pax looked away.
“Were you up all night because you couldn’t sleep or because you were talking about me?”
Pax let go of his hand. “We spoke about you.”
“Doesn’t like me much.”
“That has nothing to do with it.”
“So what is it then?”
“Vin thinks you’re a bad influence.”
“I bet.”
Ellis was angry—too angry. Sure, he thought Vin was a pretentious prick, and he didn’t like the idea of losing his only real friend because of such a tool. But Ellis actually wanted to punch Vin—hard. That was far too extreme an emotion for the situation. He wouldn’t have felt that way if Warren had told him he couldn’t hang out anymore because his girlfriend disapproved. He wouldn’t have wanted to punch Marcia if she’d come between them, and he’d been friends with Warren for more than forty years. Granted, Marcia was a petite blonde with big blue eyes, and it would have been like beating up on a fawn. While Vin, on the other hand, was a pompous, melodramatic, diva, picking on the little ingénue who—
“We should go see Pol,” Pax said. “I’ll get your bag.” Pax offered a courageous smile that Ellis knew was forced.
By the time Pax returned, Vin had stepped out of one of the doors into the social room and stopped abruptly. The mask had been left behind, and Vin was wearing just the eighteenth-century suit. Vin looked identical to Pax. Ellis’s eyes shifted between them, his mind locking up like some computer asked to calculate the highest number or the absolute value of pi. If Vin put on a bowler hat…
“Why is Ellis Rogers still here?”
Pax crossed the room and pulled Ellis away.
Maybe Pax thought he might shoot Vin. The thought had crossed his mind. They didn’t seem to have any penalty for murder. He could offer the excuse that he was merely a product of his times. Pax pulled harder, shoved Ellis’s backpack at him, then drew out the iPortal. Ellis heard the now familiar snap and hiss as an opening was made. Looking through it, Ellis saw a circular pool surrounded by trees, lawns, and stone walkways.
“Please,” Pax begged him with a frightened face and motioned to the portal.
Ellis stared back, surprised at the emotion in Pax’s voice. Maybe Ellis wasn’t the only one to seethings. He felt ashamed.
The portal shimmered, a perfect window into another reality that he just had to step through, but to Ellis it was another box of milk crates, another escape to a foreign place. He sighed and stepped through.
The first thing Ellis noticed was the gurgling sound of the fountain in the middle of the bowl-shaped pool that shot water up a good sixty feet. Tens of thousands of years had passed since humanity had escaped primeval forests, and there was still something about splashing water that had caused mankind to bring the babbling brook with them. Something soothing there, something embedded in the collective psyche—fountains were the clocks in puppies’ beds, simulating the heartbeat of a missing mother.
The second thing he noticed was all the people. Ellis hadn’t experienced a public space in Hollow World yet. He’d only looked down on the gardens below Pax’s balcony. Some gathered in groups, some walked with purpose, but none noticed him—yet. With childlike logic, he avoided looking at anyone, as if this would render him invisible. Besides, he didn’t need to see their faces—they were all the same.