Hollow World

Chapter Seven Sign of the Times

Ellis woke to the familiar wheezing congestion in his chest and this time found the rain-forest bathroom without Alva’s help. Breakfast consisted of “something special” Alva whipped up. Eggs. The omelet not only tasted like eggs, but it looked and had the texture of eggs. The dish also had chunks of ham, green pepper, onions, cheese, and a little sprinkling of paprika on top. The only difference between it and a classic western omelet was that Ellis had never eaten eggs this good, which made him suspect he wasn’t eating anything that had come out of a chicken—that and the fact it had emerged from a device that looked similar to a microwave.

Alva called it a Maker and had instructed Ellis to place a bag of rocks in it. The rocks came from a chute dispenser next to the machine that reminded Ellis of the bulk food dispensers they used to have at his Kroger supermarket. The chute was transparent, ran up through the ceiling, and was filled with coffee-bean-sized pebbles. He just needed to hold the bag to the mouth and rotate a lever to fill the bag. The rocks slid down and were replaced from wherever the chute originated, causing Ellis to think about the advances of hot and cold running gravel.

Alva instructed him to place the rocks, along with the bag, in the Maker. There looked to be a means to do a direct feed into the machine from the chute, but it wasn’t connected. Then Alva told him not to touch anything and let her handle the “cooking.” The machine hummed, and there was light. Then Ellis laughed as he heard the exact same bing that his own microwave made when it was done. Opening the door, he found the piping-hot omelet.

“It’s an old pattern,” Alva explained, “but I thought you might like it.”

Ellis had been hesitant to eat rocks, no matter what magic trick had been done. After three bites he was a convert. “How can rock become food? Wouldn’t you need organic material?”

“Everything in the universe is made of the same thing when you break the components down far enough,” Alva explained. “Then it’s all in the way you rebuild and recombine aspects that make them organic, inorganic, liquid, and solid. Humans, after all, are made from the same material as stars.”

“Interesting. So if I put more rocks in, can I get coffee?”

“Sure! Classic, sweet, chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, guava, Tantuary, cinnamon-honey, maple, blackberry, latte, core-style, litho-roast—”

“Classic—black.”

“Use one of the small bags.”

He drew one out of the drop-down dispenser. Extremely thin, the bags were see-through and plastic-like. He placed the opening over the chute mouth and noticed the drink symbol on the lever. A quick tap and the bag filled with about a cup of the gravel, consisting of different types of uniformly distributed rocks. A bing later and he had his coffee, complete with a white ceramic mug.

The house was quiet, and Ellis took his meal to the social room. As Alva had predicted, he loved the balcony and continued to be mesmerized by the view. The quality of light was constantly changing, perpetually altering and revealing new, previously hidden surprises. That morning the sky was a pale pink, blending toward a yellow sun that had yet to show its face. The predawn light worked like a shadow play, creating silhouettes out of the trees and rock formations that were obviously designed to be seen as such. Ellis spotted a shadow-puppet tiger and across from it a bird. As the sun rose, the outlines changed so that the tiger crept forward, inching up on the unsuspecting prey.

Ellis pulled over one of the soft chairs and sipped his coffee as he watched this sliver of Hollow World waking. The coffee, unlike the omelet, did not thrill him. He liked his coffee strong, and this tasted like hot coffee-scented water. Maybe he should have gone with core-style or litho-roast.

Distant voices echoed from below, and he peered over the rail to see a group of early risers starting to play a game of some kind on the open lawn of the garden. A moment later Ellis heard music and thought it might be coming from one of the other homes, but then he discovered a quartet playing in a sheltered grove across from where the others were setting up their game. The music was soft, gentle—rising strings growing steadily stronger, plainly illustrating the rising of the sun.

Ellis saw others appear on the walking paths below, some alone and others in pairs. Two different walkers had dogs. They were the first pets he’d seen, and he was pleased to know man’s best friend had survived the years. Across the open expanse, he saw others like himself on balconies with steaming cups, faces turned toward the light. Below, the music grew louder and louder, a beautiful melody. The game players paused to watch the rising sun, as if it were a flag raising and the little quartet was playing the national anthem.

As the yellow ball peeked above the horizon and spilled its first rays of golden light, the outline of the tiger leapt for the bird, but the bird had flown away. As the falselight sun rose and the atrium illuminated, Ellis saw that the bird and tiger were only fountains, tree branches, and the edge of the cliff. Illusions given life for those few seconds, a secret show provided by the artists for those knowing where and when to look. Ellis wondered how many other Easter eggs were hidden, and if they were different for balconies with other views.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Ellis turned to find Pax behind him, the glow of the morning sun bathing the familiar face. He had expected a robe or something, but like him Pax was dressed in the same set of clothes as the night before, only this suit failed to show a wrinkle, so Pax must have more than one.

“Gorgeous.”

“Maybe you can understand now why we value our artists so much.” Pax sat beside him. “And I see you’ve been introduced to the Maker.”

“Alva showed me. The omelet was great. This coffee on the other hand…” He made a face.

“I drink Frizlana—it’s a pattern of tea, but I know a great many people who like litho-roast.”

Ellis could hear the faint shouts as the game began. Several of those on balconies leaned over to watch.

“Mezos are playing the Brills this morning,” Pax said. “Each section of the community has its own team. I used to play on the Mezos about…sixty years ago, I guess. We were never very good. Lost almost every game. People still cheered for us.” Pax sighed. “I’m sorry I abandoned you last night. I felt awful. Didn’t get much sleep.”

“I’m sorry I upset you.”

Pax stared at him with that same bewildered expression. “You are just so…”

Ellis braced himself. He was expecting irritating or frustrating. Those were the words Peggy and his mother had used most often, and Warren had dubbed him an asshole most of the time and a prick on occasion.

“…just so amazing. I wish I could be like you.”

Certain that Pax was joking, he laughed. Pax didn’t laugh with him, and, realizing Warren had been right about him being an ass, he stopped. “I’m a miserable old man who’s dying of an incurable sickness. You don’t want to be me.”

“Are you joking again? I can’t always be sure, you know. Your humor is so…unusual. You must be, though, because…because, well look at you. You’re unique—truly unique. You have hair—and it’s two colors. Your skin sags, and has all those great creases, like a beloved knapsack that has been taken everywhere and shows evidence of every mile. No one else has that. And no one else has invented a time machine and ridden it two thousand years into the future or saved someone else’s life by stopping a murderer. But…it’s more than that. It’s you. The way you act. The way you don’t just look, but actually see—see things everyone else misses. The wear marks of glasses and…well…me. I feel special just being with you. It’s a gift you have, this ability to hand out inspiration and kindness without any trace of motive. You’re amazing.”

Pax’s eyes had that glassy, wide-eyed appearance again. “In Hollow World we all try to be different, try to stand out as original, but only you truly are.”

No one had ever looked at him that way before. No one had ever accused him of being amazing, not even when he had opened his acceptance letter to M.I.T. There had been pats on the back and congratulations, but not even his own mother had showed such awe. Ellis didn’t know what to do or say. He took a long sip from his coffee cup and discovered he had a little trouble swallowing.

“I realized last night I shouldn’t be keeping you here,” Pax went on. “I should make certain the GWC knows about the killings and about you. I’m sure they will have all sorts of questions, and they will take you to the ISP to fix your health.”

“You think they could?”

“The ISP can do just about anything except bring you back from the dead, and you can be certain they’re busy working on that. If it’s only your lungs, they’ll just outfit you with a new pair. That sort of thing is no big deal, just a port-in procedure.”

“Seriously? Oh…ah…what about cost?” Ellis knew Pax said there wasn’t money anymore, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be a cost.

“Cost?”

“What would I have to do or give to get these new lungs?”

“See—I can’t really tell if that’s a joke. You don’t even smile when you say it.”

“That’s because I’m not joking. I want to know what will be demanded of me in return. I don’t want to agree to anything without knowing what I’m getting into first.”

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 bleezing means, 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 see things. 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.

The third thing Ellis noticed was the city. He was in a small park surrounded by massive buildings. Each was unusual, few had sharp angles—not a single “box” in the bunch—and all were works of art. Shrunken down, they would be marvels on pedestals in any museum. But at dozens of stories tall, they were breathtaking. Most appeared carved from solid rock, free-flowing organic sculptures. The interplay of metals—copper, brass, gold, and silver—created designs inlaid as decorations on the buildings and in the plazas and walkways. Art deco met tribal expressionism; nature living in harmony with high-industry; the soft and the sharp, made and grown, all blending into something new. Above it all remained the blue sky, this one streaked by thin clouds.

The last thing Ellis noticed was that Pax had followed him through.

Turning, he revealed his wide-eyed surprise.

“How could you think I was going to abandon you?” Pax chastised him and displayed an irritated look so pointed that Ellis knew it was artificial. “Do you know where Pol’s office is? Would you know how to find it?”

“In the past I just appeared where I was going.”

Pax smirked. “You can’t just port into the GWC. I’m sure you couldn’t just port into the palace of the Prime Minister of the United States without announcing yourself first either. Not that Pol, or anyone else in the Grand World Council, has the power to execute people on a whim like people did in your day, but still—it’s not polite.”

Ellis couldn’t help smiling. He was so happy Pax was with him that he overlooked the errors in history. Yet as they began crossing the park, Ellis remembered the history-grams and wondered if they really were errors. Two thousand years was a very long time. Perhaps at some point the United States did have a prime minister who ordered executions.

Pax led the way across the open plaza on which huge burnished metal shapes were embedded. Ellis guessed they must make some clever design that was indiscernible from the ground but would be lovely from the windows of the buildings. As they walked, Ellis saw a large river snaking in the distance and weaving between buildings. On the water were all sorts of boats, from traditional sailing ships to more exotic vessels which looked like they were powered by glass sails. No freighters, however, no barges hauling goods the way he’d seen on the Detroit River. Everything in this world was for enjoyment, as if every inhabitant was on permanent vacation. Where were the factories? Where were the men with jackhammers fixing the streets? For that matter, where were the streets?

Seconds after he appeared, people began noticing him. Heads turned. Individuals halted and just stared. Once they started walking, eyes grew wide, and those watching moved out of their way. Some mouths opened as if to speak, but Pax did not stop, and together they marched on. Ellis decided not to look back but heard mutterings and imagined a gathering there, swirls of people drawn close, eddying in their wake.

Finding the Grand World Council was easier than Pax had led him to believe, because it stood out dramatically like other capitols. In this case the building was center stage and topped by a giant sculpture of the earth made of gold and copper. The Hollow World globe didn’t depict the continents on its shell, but rather the tectonic plates. Divisions of land and sea were lightly etched into the surface of the massive plate cutouts, appearing as ghostly afterthoughts, no more than spots on a dog. Europe and Asia shared a plate, but the Arabian Peninsula had its own. North America, South America, and Africa all had their own plates, but they were much larger than the continents themselves, because they included a portion of the ocean as well. Ellis noticed several others he couldn’t place. Some were quite small, like one just off the coast of the American Northwest, and another near the Antarctic. Ellis wondered if that’s where he was at that moment, on the tiny chip at the bottom of the world between the tip of what had once been Argentina and the Cape of Good Hope.

Inside, the building was bright and airy despite walls of glassy, black marble. Sculptures and mosaics filled the space. The largest spelled out HOLLOW WORLD in cleverly pieced-together shapes. Ellis thought the place looked more like an art museum than a government building—and a top-notch one at that. The temperature was the same inside as out, which spared him a coughing attack. Ellis reminded himself he wasn’t entering from the outdoors, just moving between rooms.

Few people were in the lobby, and Ellis didn’t see any desk or clerk. Pax walked directly to a blank wall and tapped on the polished marble. A touchscreen appeared, and Pax moved through a few menus until finding Pol-789. Underneath this was a list of names, and Ellis was surprised to see Ellis Rogers on it alongside Pax-43246018. Pax tapped their names, and a portal appeared beside them.

Stepping through, they entered a tiny office. Circular in shape, all the walls appeared to be glass, letting in the falselight and providing panoramic views of the city now far below. In the center was a beautiful round table etched with a detailed map that might have been a projected flat version of the Hollow World interior, while the table’s centerpiece was a rotating replica of the giant globe Ellis had seen on the building.

“Welcome,” a very pleasant woman’s voice—a vox—greeted. “My name is Balmore. Chief Councilor Pol will be with you shortly. Please have a seat.”

Ellis and Pax sat in two of the four chairs. Pax sat very straight, adjusting the frock coat and resetting the angle of the bowler hat, only to adjust it again a moment later.

“You don’t come here often, do you?” Ellis asked, discovering he was feeling quite at ease by virtue of lacking any preconceived impressions. If this had been the Oval Office, or a palace, he might have been intimidated. Instead, this was just a room with a fancy table, and Ellis had seen more impressive principals’ offices.

“I’ve only been to Wegener once, a long time ago, and I’ve never been inside the GWC, much less the Chief Councilor’s office.”

When the door opened, Pax jumped up, standing like a soldier at attention. Not familiar with protocol, Ellis followed suit.

The person who entered was another identical copy of Pax. That’s how Ellis saw everyone, even though he understood that, at only a few hundred years old, Pax was far younger than everyone else. Full names, he guessed, were an indication. Like Delaware license plates, or online user names, the lower numbers must indicate age of creation and perhaps social status. Ellis considered the numbers might also just show the popularity of that name, but the fact that a geomancer was called Geo made him think otherwise. Geo-24 was probably very old—only twenty-three Geos had come before—while Pol-789 would be younger, and Pax-43246018 would be a baby in comparison.

“Wonderful—you’re here,” their host greeted them. “I’m Chief Councilor Pol. So nice to meet you. Please sit down.”

Pol wore clothes, too, but had stolen fashions far older than Pax’s or Vin’s. The Chief Councilor was dressed in a bright-orange, Grecian-style toga, which was fastened at the shoulder by an ornate gold clasp in the shape of the tectonic world. Just as bald and dark skinned as the rest, Pol was the first to look normal to Ellis’s eyes, appearing as any of the Tibetan monks that he had seen on television or the cover of National Geographic magazine. Pol greeted them formally, standing straight, with one hand in the fold of his robes like Napoleon.

“Thank you for seeing us,” Pax said, sitting down. Ellis did the same, his eyes still taking in the views.

Pol was equally fascinated by Ellis, even bending to see what parts of him were hidden beneath the table. “Wonderful. Simply wonderful.”

“Ellis Rogers is a real gift,” Pax agreed. “The only one of his kind. As I explained in the memo, Ellis Rogers is here from the early twenty-first century, long before the ISP was formed, before the first excavations of Hollow World, and even before Monsanto started the first subterranean farms. His world still ran on fossil fuel, ate slaughtered animals, and lived every day on the grass at the mercy of the weather.”

Ellis hadn’t heard Pax speak like this before—so formal and filled with admiration. It surprised him.

“A true Darwin,” Pol said, nodding. “And you traveled in a time machine like H. G. Wells—one of your own making?”

“I built it in my garage. It wasn’t that hard. A guy named Hoffmann did all the real work. He figured out how to do it.”

“Can you return to your time? Are you just visiting?”

“No. It’s a one-way thing. I’m here permanently, although I won’t be here long.”

“No?”

“Well, you see—I have a medical condition that—”

Pol held up a palm. “Pax explained about that in the message sent to me along with an accounting of your role in helping to stop a murderer, who had killed one of our beloved geomancers. Trust me, all of Hollow World is in your debt, and we will see to it that any defect you have is corrected. You’re a treasure to us, and a hero—not that you needed to be. Those at the ISP love this sort of challenge, and to work with a true Darwin, well…” Pol appeared at a loss for words.

Pol reached out and squeezed Ellis’s hand. “We’ll take great care of you.” Pol then turned to Pax. “Thank you for bringing Ellis Rogers to us, and for your role in solving the murders as well. You’ve performed an invaluable service to Hollow World, Pax. I’ll see to it that you’re remembered for this.”

Pol tapped the brooch at the shoulder of the tunic, and the portal reappeared behind their chairs. “And you can trust that I’ll take very good care of Ellis Rogers.”

A moment of silence hung. Pax stood slowly, eyes cast low.

“Thank you again, Pax,” Pol said.

The time for saying goodbye was at hand again, and while Ellis was pleased to discover he’d earned a free medical procedure, he felt awful once more. What else could he do? What else did he expect? How long had he even known Pax? Ellis couldn’t understand his own feelings. All he knew was that he enjoyed being around Pax, and the idea of never meeting again was so unpleasant he dropped into depression.

He put his game face on. Ellis was going to suck it up and be manly. He watched as Pax hesitated, then turned back to face Pol with serious, troubled eyes. “Who is Ren?”

Pol’s smile vanished at the sound of the word. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Pax’s expression shifted to sharp concern. “I asked who Ren is.”

“I have no idea.”

Pax continued to stare at the Chief Councilor, who looked increasingly nervous.

“What were you talking with Geo-24 about?”

Pol struggled to ignite that smile again. “I think it’s time for you to leave us, Pax.”

Ellis watched as Pax’s expression shifted from concern to terror. “You’re not Pol-789.”

Pol replied with an artificial laugh that even Ellis didn’t buy. “Of course I am. I wouldn’t be able to enter this office unless I was.”

“You could if you had Pol’s chip.” Pax stood up, and, reaching across the table, pulled the toga off the Chief Councilor’s left shoulder. There, in the otherwise unblemished tawny skin, was a scar: well healed, but clearly visible, similar to the one Ellis had seen on Geo-24’s impostor. The assault startled Pol, who reached out with both hands to cover up. As the Chief Councilor did, they both noticed Pol was missing a pinky and ring finger on one hand.

Pax gasped. “Who are you?”

All pretenses fell away. Pol tapped the brooch again, and some of the windows changed to what appeared to be a television screen. Only the show that was playing was the back of a person’s head.

“Gar?” Pol said, and the person on the screen turned. “I need your help up here right away. We have a security problem.”

Pax shoved the fancy table forward, striking Pol in the stomach and knocking the Chief Councilor’s chair over.

The portal was still open behind them.

“Go!” Pax shouted.

Ellis never bothered to think. He dove through the opening and found himself back in the lobby. Behind him, through the portal, he could see Pol’s mouth shouting a silent, Stop!

Before he’d had a chance to reorient himself, Pax had hold of his hand and was pulling him toward the exit doors. “We have to get outside so I can open a portal,” Pax said, already digging the device out of the frock coat.

“What’s going on? Why are they after you?”

“They don’t care about me—it’s you they want.”

The snap and hiss of multiple portals popped in the lobby, and others stepped out and spotted them. “Hey! Stop!”

Pax and Ellis pushed out the front doors back into the falselight sunshine that gave no feeling of warmth. Ellis saw Pax pause and fiddle with the device, then a new portal appeared directly in front of them. With Pax still holding tight to his hand, they jumped in together.

Ellis was standing inside a massive stadium. Tiers of seats rose up before him numbering in the tens of thousands, most filled by spectators looking down at a green field where a game was being played. The crowd roared, several jumped to their feet, clapping. None noticed Pax and Ellis.

Pax, still holding his hand, pulled Ellis up a set of steps and around a pillar that was marked SEC-B 200-300 in bold white numbers.

“Where are we? What’s going on?” Ellis asked, having to shout over the cheers of the fans.

“We’re at Tuzo Stadium,” Pax replied, struggling feverishly with the portal device. “I was here last week. Had the location pre-programmed and I didn’t have time to pick anywhere else.”

Ellis peered around the pillar. On the field athletes were battling with three separate balls. Instead of uniforms, the players were painted different colors. Ellis guessed there were three different teams: one blue, one orange, and one yellow.

“What’s going on? What happened in Pol’s office? What was all that about Ren?”

Pax was busy with the portal device again, but darting furtive glances down the steps. “I need to pick a place outside, somewhere on the grass where you’ll be safe.”

“Safe from whom?”

“I don’t know, but that wasn’t Pol-789. Whoever we just met was involved in Geo-24’s murder, and I think also might have killed Pol-789.”

“How do you know—”

“Got it,” Pax declared as another portal appeared.

Ellis could hardly see anything inside the opening. The far side was dark.

Pax took hold of his hand once more. “Let’s go before they catch us.”

The moment Ellis stepped through the new portal, he was hit by a bath of hot, humid air and knew he was no longer in Hollow World. The light that spilled in from the stadium illuminated a scene of thick vegetation. Large, broad-leafed plants and massive-trunked trees hugged them. The ground felt moist beneath his feet, the air thick with the scent of dirt and plants, and everywhere were the whoops, chatter, shrieks, and cries of living things.

An instant later the portal snapped shut, leaving them in darkness.

“Where are we now?” Ellis whispered, terrified to move, but Pax pulled him along, rushing blindly into the slap of leaves.

“On the grass—South American Plate, Amazonian Biome, Basin Quadrant.”

“We’re in the Amazon jungle?”

Pax halted. “I—I thought—” The words were frightened, panicked. “I didn’t know it would be dark here. I can’t see what I’m doing!”

“Hang on—relax.” Ellis stopped. Pulling off his pack, he fished out the flashlight.

“Shine the light on my Port-a-Call,” Pax said, holding up the device.

The little controller had a tiny screen and a touch pad, and Pax was doing something that caused new numbers and words to appear. “You said you left your time machine not far from the Ford Museum, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you have more food and water at that machine?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, then I’m going to open a portal for you near the museum. They’ll never be able to find you once you step through.”

“Wait—what about you? You sound like you aren’t coming.”

“I can’t. I have a chip like everyone else. They can track the PICA in my shoulder as I pass through any portal. They knew we were in Tuzo Stadium. They’ll know we’re in this jungle too. They’ll trace the exact spot we ported to, but because we’re outside Hollow World, because we moved from the port-in, they can’t know exactly where. Once we split up, they won’t be able to find you at all.”

“Who’s they?”

“The murderers. Whoever that was in Pol’s office, I guess. I thought we’d stopped the killing. We didn’t. It’s obvious this isn’t just random. People are being murdered and replaced. We need to find out why. We’re probably the only two who know.”

“I bet Geo-24 knew—or suspected,” Ellis said. “That’s why he was investigating Pol. That might be why he was killed.”

“Maybe,” Pax said. “But Abernathy mentioned that it was Pol who contacted Geo-24 first. So what did Pol want from Geo-24?”

“Something suspicious enough to make Geo-24 ask questions that might have gotten him killed.”

“At this point it could be anything. All I know is that they’re after you.” A portal appeared in the dark. This one also led to a leafy darkness, just not as thick. “There! Go!”

Ellis hesitated. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me, run!”

“But I do worry about you. If I disappear, they’ll come after you.”

“I won’t tell them where you went. I swear.”

Ellis sighed. The electric filament that outlined the open portal painted Pax’s face and the surrounding giant leaves with a ghostly light. “I know you won’t. You’d die before telling them.”

“Yes…” Pax nodded, eyes grave, face desperate. “Yes, I would.”

“Which is why I’m not going through that portal. Not without you.”

“But I can’t go. I have a chip, and they’ll be here soon.”

Ellis let his hand settle on the pistol at his hip.

“No,” Pax said, lips trembling. “Please don’t.”

“I won’t leave you.”

“No more killing, please. Just go.”

The pain on Pax’s face was horrible to witness. This was the only living friend Ellis had. He would kill anyone who tried to harm Pax, and yet just then he was the one causing the pain. There had to be another way.

“What if we got rid of the chip?” Ellis asked.

Pax stared at him for a moment. “Do you have your knife in that bag?”

Ellis nodded.

“Okay, okay…” The portal snapped out of existence. “But let’s get farther away from the port-in. It will give us more time.”

Using his flashlight, Ellis led the way, pressing through thick ferns. They splashed through water and trudged over a tangle of roots and plants until they found higher ground at the base of a vine-wrapped trunk that afforded a small open patch. The ground was spongy, a buildup of organic material—dirt in the making. By the time they stopped, Ellis was soaked. Maybe it was the air condensing on him, the spill of water from leaves, or just plain old-fashioned sweat, but his clothes were plastered to his body, dragging on him like weights. His breath was also coming in gasps, that same harsh crackle. It hadn’t bothered him nearly so much in Hollow World. Now it was back. The shift in temperature and humidity wanted to remind him his life was on a timer.

Pax had already stripped away the frock coat and was unbuttoning the white shirt. There was something awful about watching Pax undress, like seeing a superhero forced to strip off a mask. Underneath, Pax was like all the others.

Ellis dropped his pack and drew out the hunting knife. Ellis had purchased the blade off Amazon’s website, which, at that moment—in his growing anxiety—struck him as ironic. “We should sterilize this somehow.”

“Why?”

“Prevent an infection.”

“There isn’t a germ on this planet that’s interested in my cells.” Pax sat against the tree. “Just make sure you don’t nick yourself.”

“Right.”

Ellis knelt beside Pax. Holding the flashlight with one hand and the knife in the other, he wiped his dripping forehead with his sleeve, but he only exchanged one wetness for another. “Do they put these things in deep?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think this is going to hurt.”

“Yeah, and you’d better hurry. They will eventually come here, and I’m not sure I…”

“What?”

“I’m not sure I won’t scream—I think I will, actually.”

Ellis tilted the light up and saw the glassy look of Pax’s frightened eyes. The light also shone off the big blade he held as if he were about to have a knife fight in some old western. What he needed was a scalpel, a razor, or an X-ACTO blade. Doing surgery with a six-inch Bowie knife was insane.

“Are you sure you want me to do this?”

“Yes.”

“I mean, I know this was my idea, but I don’t want you to think you have to—”

“Do it. Just hurry.” Pax was trying to sound brave, and actually did a fine job—braver than Ellis felt, holding that knife handle slick with sweat. He’d never cut anyone before. The closest thing was digging a splinter out of Peggy’s finger with a needle. That ordeal had lasted almost fifteen minutes, with him pinching and probing and her jerking and crying. The stress of that tiny splinter had exhausted Ellis—this scared the hell out of him.

He struggled to take a breath as he held the big stainless-steel blade up against Pax’s perfect skin. It looked huge, as if he planned to use a barbecue fork to fish out crabmeat. He remembered the online product description: perfect for gutting a deer in the wilderness. Knowing he’d need his other hand, he gripped the butt of the light with his teeth, then firmly grasped Pax’s shoulder. If he was going to do it, he couldn’t pussyfoot. He had to cut deep and fast. Anything less would just add to Pax’s misery. Recalling where he’d seen the other scars, he made a best guess.

“Brace yourself,” he mumbled around the flashlight. Ellis took another breath and pushed the blade into Pax’s shoulder.

Pax cried out and jerked sharply, forcing Ellis to squeeze hard to hold Pax still. He shoved deeper. Pax cried louder. The sound was almost surprised—a consternated “Oh!” that lingered as if Pax were starting to sing “Oklahoma.” It only took a second to make a slice big enough that Ellis could have inserted a quarter in. Blood dripped out, but not as much as he had expected. Ellis had imagined a spray of some kind, like Pax was a balloon filled with blood. With the cut made, he had to find the chip, and there was only one way he could do that.

Ellis pressed his index finger into the opening and began to probe. Pax shifted, thighs drumming as if the ground were on fire. More blood was coming out. Several streaks teared down the full length of Pax’s arm, spilling on the back of Pax’s hand that spread out on the jungle floor like the roots of a tiny tree. Pax’s fingers dug into the mulch, ripping it, squeezing it. He could feel Pax’s body quiver, hear a shuddering breath. Ellis was uncertain which of them it belonged to.

Somewhere in the night the relative quiet of the jungle exploded into squawks and shrieks.

“They’re here,” Pax managed to whisper with a stolen intake of air.

Ellis ignored the sounds. A python could have slithered up his pant leg and he wouldn’t have cared. He had his finger buried up to the second knuckle in Pax’s flesh, worming its way around tendons and…he was pretty sure—yes, that was a bone. Just when he was starting to despair at not finding anything, Ellis’s fingertip touched something oddly solid. Wafer-thin, it might have been a tiddlywink. He inserted the blade again, excavating toward it. He forced himself to tune out the grunts and gasps, jerks and jolts. The best way to save Pax pain now was to just focus and get the job done.

He was close, and if he’d had a pair of needle-nose pliers he could have yanked the damn thing out, but instead he had to use the blade again. He cut in a second incision, creating more of an X opening, giving him room to put both fingers inside. Pax’s head was back, bouncing against the tree and popping the brim of the bowler hat up, eyes squeezed tight, lips pinched, shaking hard. Then Ellis caught the thing. A slick disk he pinched tight between two fingers and pulled. It came free with a sucking sound that coincided with a cry from Pax.

“Got it!” Ellis gasped in triumph.

He set the disk aside and pulled the first-aid kit out. He tore the wrapper off a sterile pad, held it to the wound, and began wrapping a gauze bandage around Pax’s shoulder. When he was done, he repeated the process with the medical tape.

Somewhere in the darkness he could hear snapping branches.

Pax’s face was slick with moisture. “They heard me. We need to go.”

“Wait,” Ellis said. “If we send this chip through a portal, they’ll think it was you, right?”

Pax nodded.

“Then dial up someplace crazy.”

Ellis used his big, bloody knife to strip a chunk of bark off the tree, then taped the chip to it. As he did, Pax worked the Port-a-Call with one hand. The portal opened. Through it, all Ellis could see was a star field. He wound up and pitched the chunk of bark as hard as he could through the opening. Pax closed the portal and began dialing up the next as Ellis stuffed everything back in his knapsack, including Pax’s shirt and coat.

Somewhere to their left, Ellis heard people hacking through the undergrowth, and he saw a light splash across the underside of the canopy. The shrill voices of an excited jungle cut the night.

Pax popped another portal next to them, showing the same nighttime forest as earlier. Ellis threw his pack over one arm and scooped Pax up with the other, and together they staggered through the opening.